Who Has Time For Tears?
by spinners-grove
Summary: Severus Snape is aimless after the war until he receives a letter from Lily, calling him to a town designed to manifest the guilt and fear of those trapped inside. Will Snape come to terms with his past? Or will he fall prey to his own hatred and regret?
1. Prologue: Invitation

I'll try to be quick! If you know Silent Hill, you could consider this a crossover fic in regards to the "Restless Dreams" universe. If you have no idea what that means, then the world is more like an AU that I don't own, seeing as you need no knowledge of Silent Hill whatsoever, and the entire plot is based on Snape and Snape alone. I'd really rather not move it, if you don't mind!

Though the story is rated T, it can be quite graphic. Warnings include strong violence, blood and gore, general horror, mild language, and mild sexual themes.

Updates Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and Silent Hill belongs to Konami.

Thanks!

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_._

_Love was never meant to be such a crazy affair, no_  
><em>And who has time for tears?<em>  
><em>I never thought I'd sit around and cry for your love,<em>  
><em>'Till now...<em>  
>- Mary Elizabeth McGlynn, Silent Hill 3 OST<p>

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Prologue

The war had ended. It had been over four months now, the hours trickling away as slowly as sand through an hourglass. At least, it was this way for Severus Snape.

Other people had flown through a rollercoaster of grief and joy; burying their dead, celebrating their renewed freedom. But the ex-professor had remained stony and apathetic through his days in St. Mungo's, finding no pleasure in the supposed gift of life, or in this supposed freedom.

In all truth, he really should have been dead.

The gaping wound in his throat had closed, the bruising in his face had faded, the hospital food had made his ribs a little less visible under such pallid flesh. And yet, something deeper within him resonated with a hurt that no doctor or nurse could possibly have a cure for- let alone have any understanding of. For truly, there was no reason for it. There was no reason that he should have been nursed back to health like a wounded dog, and there was no reason that court proceedings should have been held to clear his name. Now that he could no longer serve Lily's memory, his life held no purpose.

He had fully expected to die in that final battle, and had welcomed the notion. With the Dark Lord defeated, and Potter's ultimate fate decided, there was nothing left for him to do, no driving force to urge him onward, no sense of determination to keep his bones and skin together.

He was nothing more than an empty shell now.

These were Snape's thoughts as he dressed himself on the morning of September the 15th, if nothing else glad to be rid of the thin hospital gown that he had been confined to. The hospital had provided him with new attire: a simple Muggle-styled shirt and formal black trousers, along with a new pair of boots. Though the nurse had insisted that Muggle-wear was all the rage at present, he still felt uncomfortable and vulnerable without his coat and cloak.

Potter had deprived him of his mental shields: the barrier of fearful respect that he had built over so many years. Now when people read his name in the paper or spoke of him on the street, their voices were filled with pity or revulsion. One person might cluck their tongue and say, "Oh what a pathetic way to live; that sad, unfortunate man." Another might give a sigh of disgust and say, "What a pervert; lusting after someone who clearly didn't want him. Couldn't he take a hint?" So was it really so much to ask to have at least those few extra layers of fabric? Couldn't he have that one protective, physical shield between him and them? After all, that's what it always was. Him and them.

Snape took one look around the room, just big enough for a bed, a nightstand and a single chair for visitors. No one had sat there. Simply, he knew he should have been in the public ward with everyone else, but there seemed no end to the reasons that the staff decided against it. At first, they most likely believed that he was still a Death Eater, and wanted to keep him somewhere that they could lock from the outside, like an animal's cage. Later they realized that people were straying from the patients they had come to see in order to catch a glimpse at the man who killed Albus Dumbledore. The nurses no doubt thought that one of them might try to kill him. But that, Snape thought, would have been the first stroke of good luck he had had in years.

His personal effects were laid out on the nightstand: his wand, a leather courier bag, and a small vial of green potion were all that remained. Whatever he had left in his chambers had been confiscated by the Ministry and somehow lost or sold off, while his home on Spinner's End had been burned to the ground months before the war had even ended. And then of course, the things he had carried on his person, like his well-worn and familiar clothes, had been soaked with blood and were therefore unsalvageable. The memory of the blood caused a dull ache to rise up in his neck.

Today was the day he would be released.

Released into what? Nothing. He had no home, no family, and no purpose. Snape picked up the vial of potion and examined the loop worked into the cork stopper, before raising his wand above it. Without words, a leather string materialized through it, and he silently hung it about his neck and slipped it into his shirt.

They shouldn't have wasted their time with him.

He was about to leave then, about to abandon this accursed place forever, when an odd feeling overtook him. The room seemed to spin for a split second, causing him to place a hand on the doorframe to steady himself, and the hair prickled on the back of his neck. And then it was gone as quickly as it came.

He slowly turned, wondering if this was another cruel act by God that would once again confine him to the piercing whiteness of the hospital sheets. But instead, he noticed a whiteness of a different kind: a pristine envelope lay across the previously bare nightstand. He retreated back into the room, looking warily down at the object before picking it up, holding it by the corner as though his fingertips might dirty its perfection.

The smell hit him first. It was like a wave of memory; the warm cinnamon sugar of her mother's best Christmas desserts, the sunlit grass of her backyard ground into the soles of her feet, that distinct flowery scent of her hair and her skin as they sat for hours talking on her bedroom floor.

Snape dropped the envelope as though it was on fire, staring down at it with wide eyes for several minutes. It had to be a dream, he thought, or perhaps he had already poisoned himself and this was simply a hallucination. But nonetheless, he again took it delicately into his hands, slit through the snow-white seal, and began to read the words written in her handwriting.

_Dear Severus,_

_Today is your first day of freedom, isn't it? Or doesn't it feel that way? I've been thinking about you: about what you've done for me and for my family. Surely you have as well? To be honest, I've had many things to think about. Do you remember that time I went to my cousin's wedding, and you spent hours helping me paint my fingernails and braid my hair? We were so young then, and I remember feeling so badly that you couldn't come with me. But that was the way of things._

_I want you to come see me. I've enclosed the location of a car that I want you to take; I remember my father teaching you to drive, and so I'm not worried about that. Simply, you will not be able to Apparate to where I want you to go. Inside the glove compartment will be a map, on which I've circled the location of a particular town. This will be your final destination, a place called Silent Hill._

_I will be waiting for you,_

_Lily_

Suddenly there was no question in his mind. Any thoughts of ending himself were gone; suddenly there was a purpose, a goal once again. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but it had to be. It smelled like her, it was in her handwriting- she had even recounted one of their moments together. Surely...

A knock at the door startled him, and the door opened to reveal a petite nurse dressed in white. "Mr. Snape? All of your paperwork has been processed. You may leave whenever you wish." There was a pause as Snape stared down at the white parchment. Then she spoke again. "Do you have anywhere to go, Mr. Snape?"

He suddenly became aware of himself and replaced the letter in the envelope before turning sharply. "I certainly do," he said firmly, and brushed past the woman. The envelope was clasped tightly between his fingertips, and he whispered the name to himself.

"Silent Hill."


	2. Into the Mist

Chapter One

The handle of the car door clicked in his hand, and the door swung out towards him. The car had been just where she had said it would be, parked on the street corner of this quiet Scottish suburb. The truth was that he felt a little silly getting behind the wheel after so many years, and it wasn't as though he had ever had formal lessons anyway. Mr. Evans had merely noticed the boy's fascination with his old Volkswagen and had decided to take him out for a spin. It was fairly simple, he thought: he just had to be gentle on the gas pedal and make sure he paid attention to where he was steering.

Of course, it also reminded Snape of Mr. Evans himself, a man who had treated him like his own son and given him the care that he had never gotten from his biological father. But that wasn't important now, he thought, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

The highway wound lazily through the countryside, through stretching fields of emerald grass. Snape saw none of it. He was concentrating on the black pavement in front of him, on the grey horizon and the feeling of the leather wheel against his palms. It still seemed too surreal.

Could it be possible that this was just a sick joke? Couldn't someone have forged the note and put it in his room by magic? Couldn't they have paid off one of the nurses to do such a thing? It wouldn't have been difficult, as so many people knew his secrets now. These were all very real possibilities... And yet he could not find it in himself to believe any of them. The strength that flowed into him with her words, the energy that seeped into his fingertips... These things could not be reproduced by anyone but her. She was really calling him.

"Lily."

There was a twinge of anxiety in his chest as he pondered what it would be like to finally come face to face with her. He had never spoken to her of his love, but now it was impossible that she could be ignorant of it. Would she speak to him differently? Would she do as he so often fantasized, and take him into her arms and forgive him and thank him for protecting her son? Would she apologize for abandoning him and leaving him without purpose, aimless enough to wander into the Dark Lord's ranks?

Or would she be angry? Would she blame him for the cruelty with which he treated her son? Would she scold him for abandoning her first, and allowing her to fall into Potter's arms? Would she hate him for the monster he had become and the unspeakable things he had done in her name?

He couldn't bear to think those things, and pushed them to the back of his mind.

Snape glanced at the map that he had spread on the passenger seat, and then at the small needle on the gas tank meter. It was dipping just barely below the warning mark, bobbing between the white and the red. He had been driving north for a few hours now, and his legs were beginning to feel a little stiff. The exit for a gas station presented itself in a few miles and he turned, wincing a bit as his font left tire hit the rumble strip. Pulling up was less eventful, and he took a few muggle pounds out of the glove compartment. Then, standing in front of the pump, he stared at it for a few moments before murmuring a small, "Oh."

After some fiddling he finally got the thing to work, and he looked anxiously around as he waited for the tank to fill. There was a bit of fog rolling in that made him uneasy, and he took to watching the numbers turning on the machine instead. Finally it finished with a startling _ding_, and he figured that he better pay inside.

A bell tinkled as he opened the door, revealing a dusty-looking convenience store not more than a few meters in its diameter. The noise had awoken the scruffy-looking man behind the register, who looked up as Snape placed two ten-pound bills on the counter. "Thirty liters," he murmured, and the man snatched up the money. The clinking of change seemed to echo across miles of haze, and after a moment he gave a nonchalant shrug to himself and asked, "About how far is it to the turnoff for Silent Hill?"

The coins stopped almost mid-clatter, and there was a pause before Snape met the other man's eyes. "What do you want to go there for?"

"I... I'm supposed to meet someone." He raised a curious eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

The man gestured to the side of the copper register, into which about a dozen or so tallies had been carved. "I started keeping track after about the third one. Some people come by car... Others by bike... I've seen some walk, too. But they all want to know how to get to Silent Hill. They're all looking for something." He paused, as though thinking. "They all go in looking sick."

"Do I look sick to you?"

"...You look like the others."

Snape gave a thoughtful nod, beginning to understand what the man was saying. "And how do they look when they come out?"

"A few of them look better. But most of them don't come out at all."

"Couldn't it be possible that they just don't stop here?"

"I'm telling you, it's the town that gets them. It's not safe going in there; it's a trap. That's why no one lives there now but the ghosts."

"Then I suppose that's good for me," Snape said slowly. "Because I'm looking for a ghost."

A pause. Then, "It's about five kilometers up the road, past the exit for Shepherd's Glen."

He used the remaining money to buy a pack of cheap cigarettes and a bottle of water, before quickly leaving for the safety of the car. He gripped the wheel as though for support, letting go only to take a small sip of water to clear the worrisome lump in his throat. "I'm looking for a ghost," he repeated to himself, but it seemed like an empty truth. She was more than just a ghost. Ghosts didn't have such forceful grips on the living.

One of the cigarettes found its way into his mouth as he pulled back out onto the road, and somehow the familiar taste was comforting. Dumbledore had forbidden him to smoke since he had first started teaching, but now the old headmaster had no hold over him and he could do as he pleased. At least, for the most part. At times he still felt the old wizard watching him over his shoulder, as though he were still alive and still had control of his actions and thoughts and emotions... These thoughts as well were disconcerting, and so he pushed them from his mind, instead concentrating on the road and the warm smoke that filled his chest. But after a moment he got that strange feeling that he wasn't alone, and he crushed the remaining cigarette in the ashtray.

He raked a hand through his hair as he drove, still getting used to the feeling. It was no longer long and black, but instead short and mostly grey. They had cut it in the hospital, since it was easier to get at the wound in his neck, or some similar reason. It should have felt liberating, but he couldn't help but feel humiliated, or at least violated in some sense. At least it wasn't like when he first woke up in the hospital when...

He pushed it to the back of his mind, focusing on the road... And on Lily.

Soon the sign by the highway indicated the exit, and this time he turned more carefully- but forgot his directional altogether. He couldn't help but notice that in the miles leading up to the gas station, the sky had been sunny for the most part, and warm even for a September day. Now a light mist had descended on the road, and the temperature was more suited to late October. It was probably just the Scottish weather being unpredictable as usual, or maybe...

Snape couldn't help but think of what he had heard. There was no way this could be a trick. Of course a Muggle like that man would think something evil was going on where ghosts were involved but... A town where ghosts could be seen? It made so much sense. Lily would have to call him there because that's where the crossing point was between the two worlds, and no doubt all the magical energy that came from the dead would make Apparation impossible, hence the car.

It was a town where the line between the dead and the living was blurred.

The mist became a bit thicker as he passed the sign at the edge of town: a rotting wooden thing whose letters were barely visible in faded and peeled paint. "Welcome to Silent Hill."

Snape's heart began to pound as he pulled up to what seemed like an observation platform: a railed cliff overlooking a fog-covered lake to the north, and a hedge-filled park to the west. He sat there for just a moment or two, as though to catch his breath before he reached for the leather bag that he had tucked under the passenger seat. He slipped the cigarettes and the water inside and then reached for the map. He paused for a moment, looking for the red mark that had been there just a few minutes ago.

It was gone.

Taking the map into his hands, he examined it more closely, his eyes tracing the highway to about where the gas station had been. The exit for Ashfield could be seen clearly, but the ones after that- for Brahms, Shepherd's Glen and then Silent Hill- had been removed completely, leaving only a thin line of highway. Surely he had to be in a different world now, or at least a line between two. Physical locations had no meaning. The thought only made his heart race a little faster.

He tossed the map under the seat and was about to get out when a shine caught his eye. He leaned over and fished around under the seat before drawing out a small vial of clear liquid. Had it maybe fallen out of the glove compartment? Upon closer inspection he noticed a small cross carved into the smooth surface. Holy water? Why had Lily left him this? It wasn't so much that he didn't believe in God, it was just that... Why would God ever want to help him? And why would Lily think that He would?

The vial wove in and out of his fingertips as he contemplated it, and then with a shrug he tucked it into the front pocket of his bag and opened the door.

A cool dampness enveloped him as he stepped out into the air. He draped the bag's strap around his neck, adjusting it so that it rested opposite of the scarred side, and looked around. There seemed to be just this grey murk, with the vague shapes of buildings and the lake.

"L- Lily?"

His voice wavered in the intense silence, and the echo coming back through the fog was warped and distorted. He didn't dare to call again, as though the disturbance of the air might cause the town to melt away, taking his chances of seeing Lily with it.

"Lily?" It was just a whisper, and it seemed to hold mo more substance than the mist.

A flash of white caught his eye amongst the grey, and he approached the wooden rail that stood on the edge of the overhang. There was another envelope wedged between two pieces of the wood, and he gently picked it up and broke the seal.

_I waited for you, Severus, but you were too late. I'm at the school now. I'll see you there._

_- Lily_

Another map slipped out behind the parchment, and Snape stared at it numbly for a minute, his eyes tracing the grid of streets until they found the red ink encircling 'Midwich Elementary School'.

_You were too late._

But he had tried. Didn't that mean anything? Didn't...

Didn't that _mean_ anything?

Snape turned, facing the outline of the buildings as thy loomed in the fog. Suddenly the nervous excitement that had gripped him earlier acquired a tinge of dread, and a weight throbbed uncomfortably in his chest. She was in there... Somewhere...

Why couldn't she wait for him, just this once?

He turned one more time to close the car door as softly he could, the muffled slam still magnified to a painful level in the silence. It was so overwhelming and so incredible in its power, that it almost seem to reverberate in his ears, a low thrum that teetered uncomfortably on the edge of giving him a headache. Obviously it was called _Silent_ Hill for a reason. But perhaps that was the reason that only ghosts inhabited the town: they were the only ones who could cope with the soundless miasma.

It was as though he moved forward only by his desire to fill this void with the sound of his footsteps, but each soft tap of his boot seemed almost vulgar in the heavy air, as though he was treading upon the bare soil of fresh graves.

He passed dilapidated storefronts, their signs faded with age. Their windows, though whole, were covered in ashen dust, causing each one to form an extension of the mist. The doors, all of them closed tight, revealed only a panel of black from which there seemed to be spirits who watched his procession. Even the street itself, too clean and free of litter or other signs of human activity to be considered natural, had its own eeriness about it. Every once and a while he would walk by an abandoned car, parked by the side of the road, and at one point he passed a large pickup truck that had been overturned completely, its front axle still revolving slowly. Certainly he was not alone here.

It was foolish to think these things, he reminded himself. It was just this fog that was unsettling him, and his nerves regarding his reunion with Lily. It had been a long drive, anyway, with too much time for him to think. He would just go to the school and find Lily, and then they could have a nice long talk about all of this.

A noise that was not Snape's footsteps disturbed the mist, causing the man to automatically yank out his wand. He stood frozen in the middle of the street, his eyes darting from one end to the other. What had he heard? A squeak of metal? The click of a shoe? An exhale of breath?

Hesitantly, he called out with a soft voice, "Lily?"

It was quiet for a second, before a scream pierced the air, causing a rush of adrenaline to shoot through his body. Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of the blood pulsing in his ears, and he spun around, looking for the source of the scream. He knew it anywhere. That pitch, that tone... He had heard it in his nightmares, had heard it in Potter's nightmares all those years ago during one of those Occlumency lessons. A sob of horror rang out next, and Snape turned just in time to see the edge of a white dress whisper across the next street corner.

"Lily!"

He could hear his heart thumping in his chest, thumping with the quick footsteps that came from in front of him, just out of sight in the fog.

"Help! Help me, please!" she screamed.

He ran after her, following her cries and her footsteps into an alley, and ahead of him he heard the creak of a rusty gate. He came upon it quickly, swinging it out in front of him, and then he darted down the narrow strip of asphalt.

Then it was quiet. The footsteps were gone, and whereas before he almost could have heard her breathing in the fog, now there was nothing. The mist, which had become thicker in his pursuit, again lifted itself slightly, giving him at least a few meters of visibility.

Something dark caught his eye then, resting in the middle of the pavement. It was odd how everything had been either white or grey or black until now but this...

Snape's eyes widened as he recognized the shade of crimson red.

He hesitantly kneeled down beside it, recognizing it as Lily's favorite doll that she had always kept on her bedspread as a child. Only now, large gashes had been put into the fragile cloth, almost detaching its left arm all together, and allowing a bright red stain to seep out onto the ground. Half of the yarn hair had been yanked out as well, and as Snape gingerly picked it up, the shreds fell and sprinkled the ground with specks of scarlet. The button serving as its right eye, which had been hanging just by a thread, broke off and landed in the puddle of blood with a plop.

Another sound caught him off guard, but this one sounded nothing like Lily's pattering footsteps, or her delicate cries. There was a shuffling thump on the pavement, followed by a bodily sloshing and a wheezing moan.

Quickly dropping the doll, Snape stood and pointed his wand at the thing, his eyes widening in horror as he took in its appearance. It seemed almost human in shape, but was covered in a greying, rotting flesh that consumed its entire upper body. It moaned again, the prison of flesh writhing as though the arms inside were struggling to break free, and it took another lurching step forward. His hand trembled slightly as he held out his wand.

"_Impedimenta_," he murmured under his breath, giving his wand a flick.

Nothing happened.

The thing was advancing more quickly now, and Snape was forced backwards. "_Impedimenta_," he said more firmly. He made a sweeping motion with his wand. "_Incarcerous!_" Panic was beginning to set in as he continued to retreat, his wand moving frantically as he attempted as many nonverbal spells as he could. The creature drew closer, one putrid foot crushing the body of the bloodied doll. It was close enough now to see that the asphalt where it had stepped had melted, leaving craters in the shape of its deformed feet. The doll was now nothing more than a soup of ashes and blood crushed into the pavement.

Snape jumped as his back met the iron of a chain link fence, and he looked frantically around for a way out. The fence must have been at least ten meters high, and the bricks of two buildings towered above him on both sides. On the other side of the fence he could see a pile of construction material; perhaps he could climb over and land...

With the creature just a few strides away, Snape ducked down and jammed his hand as far as he could into the fence, his fingertips grasping at the end of a long metal pipe. He heard another footstep. He grasped it fully, pulling it through as fast as he could, his pulse throbbing audibly in his temple. Another footstep.

In one fluid movement, he pulled the pipe free and swung blindly with it, feeling it connect with the creature. It let out a piercing scream, and it almost made the man pause with the realization that it was Lily's scream that had rang out. But the thing lunged, sending Snape crashing into the brick wall in an attempt to dodge, and he let out a grunt as he swung again, and then two more times. The last time caught the creature beneath the chin, and sent it sprawling backwards onto the asphalt, a pool of blood flowering from its back. But it still moved, and so Snape brought up the pipe one more time and let it fall directly onto the creature's throat, crushing it completely and causing a final, gurgling whine to rise up as it went still.

The damp silence returned, and each of Snape's heavy breaths sounded like a roar in the mist.

He seemed unable to let go of the pipe, as though his fingers had melded themselves to it, and he tore his eyes away from the pile of dead flesh to examine it. He could see where the metal had connected; it seemed to have been indented in those places, melted slightly even in such brief contact. But even more disturbingly, he watched as the thing's blood glistened menacingly along its length.

Finally he willed himself to move again, and he slowly bent down to retrieve his wand before moving backwards towards where he had entered, all while never taking his eyes from the monster.

That's what it was; a monster. Suddenly the image that the man at the gas station had painted seemed to change in his mind. He had at first envisioned a town in which the dead walked freely in the streets, much like Sir Nicholas or the Grey Lady at Hogwarts. When he found the streets empty, he began to think that perhaps the town held not conventional ghosts, but was instead a place where the line between the two worlds was thin. Perhaps the dead had to wait their turn to call someone to the town?

Either way, he was no longer sure what this place was. What had that monster been? It almost seemed like an overgrown inferi, though this seemed unlikely. He had been under the impression that this had been a Muggle town, with just some additional magical attributes. But with so much magic, why couldn't his own magic work? He held his wand out, whispering, "_Lumos_." But nothing happened. His wand was nothing more than a dead piece of wood.

This thought sent a shiver of terror down his spine. He was not a strong man by nature, and he had barely been out of the hospital a few hours. Surely there was no way he could survive another encounter, given the fact that there were more. The idea of more of them did nothing but terrify him further. What was Lily trying to say to him? Was she angry with him, as she had feared? Was the monster a sign? If it was, he didn't even want to think about what the doll had meant, or why the creature screamed with her voice.

He noticed a dark spot on his sleeve then; when the creature had lunged at him it had brushed the fabric of his shirt and singed it to an almost black color. The reality of the situation gripped him, of just how close it had come to killing him, and he adjusted his hold on the end of the pipe as he carefully proceeded back into the street. It wasn't much further to the school.

The street seemed to be empty, though he nonetheless continued to scan the area around him as he walked on, careful to keep his footsteps quiet. Then, with less than a block to go and the school itself surely just a little ways out of sight, he heard a sickeningly familiar moan, and the distant shuffle of decaying feet.

The squashed form of not one but two of the creatures appeared in the fog, and Snape quickly dodged behind an abandoned car to escape. He crouched there, almost holding his breath as the shuffling came closer. A moan suggested that one of them was at least a few paces behind the other, though their exact location he wasn't sure of. He cautiously edged towards the front of the car, hoping to see them in the side mirror, but they might have been far enough away that it didn't matter anyway. They hadn't noticed him.

Suddenly, his foot brushed against something that caused a metallic clatter to ring out, and he swore under his breath as the shuffling stopped. He thought he caught sight of something gold, but he didn't have time to examine the objects further. In the mirror he could see the two monsters pause, and the one closest to him begin to shamble towards where he crouched hidden.

He would have to time it just right, he decided, hefting the pipe. In a moment, he could see the monster's distorted form through the car windows. Mulciber had once coerced him into playing Beater for a practice match; surely this wouldn't be any different. He balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting until the monster reached the right headlight.

He sprung up suddenly, swinging the pipe as hard as he could in a well-calculated arc. It connected with the creature's head, which shattered like an overripe melon and sent a shower of brains across the hood of the car. Its body slumped to the pavement with a thud, and he looked up to see the other monster advancing.

This one growled at him, the sound like the gurgle of a person choking on their own blood. It lurched forward, leaving two large footprints in the pavement, but Snape easily dodged it and brought the pipe down on the thing's head as it passed. It wobbled, losing its balance and falling to the ground, and he wasted no time on placing a finishing blow on the back of its neck. It gave way under the blunt force, and Snape was rewarded with the sound of splintering vertebrae.

He made sure to survey the street again before checking back behind the car to see what he had stepped on. Sure enough, a glitter caught his eye, and he bent down to pick up two golden discs, both about the size of his palm. They seemed to have no purpose, bearing only a few lines of unidentifiable text, but they stood out in the grey in such a manner that they begged to be picked up. Seeing as they were not too heavy, and there seemed to be no reason _not_ to take them, Snape slipped them into a front pocket of his bag.

Snape covered the remaining distance to the school more quickly, and he paused a moment before the sign that stood at the schoolyard gate. He couldn't help but feel that this place was familiar, though he had never seen such a building or heard of any 'Midwich Elementary'. Although... He wondered why Lily wanted to meet him here in particular. Perhaps since their friendship had been established because of their schooling, she had found this the most suitable?

It didn't matter; the fog and the doll and the monsters didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was here.

He pushed open the front doors, peering into the murk, and entered without another thought. As the door closed, he found the entryway bathed in a dim, murky grey light, filtering through the thick layer of dust that blanketed the windows. He still felt as though he had seen this place before, though unlike when he had noticed this feeling outside, this time he could actually recall having been in this room before. It was like something he had once seen in a dream.

"Lily?" he called out softly. There was no answer. Instead, he caught sight of a glitter in the dark hallway in front of him, a glow coming from the left. His anxiety lifted, and a smile almost pulled at his lips. "Is that you?" He moved quickly to the corner, expecting the form of a woman to be waiting for him, bathed in light as a ghost ought to be; as an angel ought to be.

Instead, there seemed to be just a disembodied beam of light streaming across the hall. The disappointment weighed heavily in his chest, but he curiously moved towards the light.

On the secretary's office counter rested an oddly-shaped torch; it was relatively thin with a cord looped through the top and a forward-facing bulb. It seemed strange that it had been left here- turned on no less- though it seemed to be pointing...

Snape's face paled as he followed the beam, which illuminated a stretch of wall on which the words, "LOOK AROUND" had been scrawled. But the words also glittered crimson in the light, and a few of the letters were dripping as though they were fresh.

Without hesitation, he snatched up the light and hung it about his neck, shining it around him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but he didn't dare turn his back on any particular direction for very long. He placed a hand on the wooden counter as though to steady himself, and held it there only for a moment. A memory or two trickled back into his consciousness, causing him to freeze.

He could remember being just barely tall enough to latch his fingers on the edge of that counter. Snape's eyes flickered to the office door, and he tentatively pushed it open, the squeak it made sending chills down his spine.

"_I keep asking the janitor to fix that," the secretary always said._

His eyes burned slightly from the dust, but he looked once around the familiar office and continued to a door on the right; the handle was a smooth auburn color, and it always used to make his fingers smell like copper. He could almost hear the principal's voice, "_Come in"; _just as he had heard every time he used to knock.

The carpet was now grey and decaying, but it had once been a bright, plush burgundy. In times that he had sat in the chair in front of that desk, he would sometimes slip his feet out of his ragged shoes and plant his toes as far down into that carpet as he could, the softness of it comforting to him.

"_So... Severus...? Hm, don't you have a nickname or something?"_

"_No sir."_

"_Well, no matter. So what is this your teacher tells me about you trying to scare her? She said that you move things behind her back and... Well, the other day she says you made a pile of papers explode. Maybe with a rubber band or something? Can you tell me what's going on?"_

He couldn't even remember the name of the school now. It probably wasn't Midwich, and yet... Riverside. The name came back to him suddenly. But how was it that it had been replicated here? Why? Surely... No. Lily had never attended that school. Riverside was only for the poor side of town; a small, underfunded establishment that reflected the poor mill children that went there. Lily went to the larger cross-community school in the next town over.

"Severus?"

Snape spun around, accidentally tripping over the pipe still clutched in his hand, and stood perfectly still, listening. Her voice came again, "Severus, what are you doing in there?"

"Lily?"

She gave a soft little laugh, making Snape's heart flutter in a way it hadn't for twenty years. "Hurry up, you slowpoke." He dashed out of the office and into the hall, looking frantically for any sign of the woman he was looking for. "I'm down here," she called, and he saw a door at the other end of the hallway that had a strip of light peeping from the bottom.

"I'm coming!" he called, unable to keep the joy from his voice. She had laughed; he had heard her laugh!

He practically ran the length of the hall, not noticing that the bloody writing on the wall had changed to form the words, "FOOL ME TWICE." The door came upon him quickly, and he reached out to open it, chuckling as he approached.

"Ahaha, I thought you were angry at me for a moment there; I suppose we just had a little misunderstanding, not unlike us unfortun-"

The rest came out as a scream. The light went out and suddenly there was no floor to speak of, leaving Snape to plunge headfirst into the gaping darkness.


	3. Midwich Elementary

Chapter Two

Snape groaned as he came to, pulling himself up onto his knees. He didn't think he could manage to stand up just yet. His vision was still fuzzy, clouded with a dull red light, and he could feel what seemed to be cracked tile beneath his fingers, the spaces between them filled with something unpleasantly sticky. The smell was the next thing he noted; the air was cool and smelled of frozen metal, but with a tinge of something rancid and decaying.

He shook his head and looked upwards from where he had come, but then repeated the motion. Instead of the darkness he was expecting to see, he noticed that the light was coming from behind a massive industrial fan suspended above him. With each revolution it sent a gust of stale air downwards on him, giving him chills. Gathering up the metal pipe- suddenly his most valuable possession- he stood and arranged his shirt sleeves and the bag around his shoulders. He would be able to recover in a few more seconds.

When he looked around to actually study his surroundings, he felt his stomach tighten painfully. The walls were covered in the plaster that the he remembered, but the once-yellow paint looked almost black in the poor light, and he could see a glittering liquid leaking from where most of it had peeled away. He quickly took his hands from the floor, realizing that they were covered in blood.

He leapt up onto his feet with a gasp, looking frantically around for something- anything- that seemed to belong in a stable reality. A part of him wanted to cry out for Lily again, but he knew she wouldn't answer. She had tricked him into this nightmare. Perhaps it was worse than a nightmare; was this Hell?

Suddenly a flash of white caught his eye, blinding in the crimson darkness, and he moved towards it desperately. He had seen war and death and more horrors than he could cope with; he couldn't take any more of this. He had seen enough blood, hadn't he? Hadn't he almost died in such decay? All he wanted was to see Lily. He wanted something pure and white and clean and something _that made him happy_, just once, just _once_ before he died...

Amongst these frenzied thoughts he had forgotten about the torch, and he fumbled in the dark for the switch. He groaned as the light confirmed the blood in the walls, but he was distracted again by the white: a piece of cloth caught in some arrangement built into the wall. It calmed something within him as he reached out to take the material, grasping it firmly in his hand. But when he tried to pull it free, it wouldn't budge. He pulled harder, not caring if he ripped it as long as he got only a few meager threads, but it did not want to come loose. He reluctantly let it go after a minute or two, staring bleakly at the rusty streaks that he had smeared across it.

It was stuck beneath the corner of a tarnished metal plate, which had been placed in an indentation in the wall along with two others. None of this seemed to make any sense, until he caught sight of a plaque to the side, bearing an inscription.

"_Each part of you devoured,_

_Each part of you condemned,_

_Each part of you that screams at night,_

_And watches Hell descend._

_The part of you that thinks in darkness,_

_The part of you that loves in vain,_

_The part of you, you wish to save,_

_And take away your pain."_

It was a riddle, laced with imagery designed to prey on his fears and magnify his grief. Then it was final, he thought. Lily intended for him to die here in what surely was, as the riddle suggested, the closest thing to Hell that this world could offer. He had tried so hard, had sacrificed everything in her name. And now she wanted him to die, no doubt to become like one of those monsters he had fought outside. She hated him, and she wanted him to suffer.

Snape couldn't remember the last time he had shed tears, and the trembling of his shoulders almost seemed unfamiliar for a moment. After keeping such impenetrable walls around his emotions for so long, after bottling them up and ignoring them for so many years... In the hospital he had been gripped by unequivocal apathy but now... He dropped the pipe with a clatter and let out a choked sob, letting the tears fall.

Twenty years. He hadn't allowed himself to cry for twenty years, knowing full well that doing so- that showing any emotion- would prevent him from completing his mission and watching over Lily's son. That was the only thing he had ever cared about, the only thing he had lived for. Did all of that mean nothing?

"Lily..." The tears came in earnest now, and he fell to his knees, not caring about the blood. He could drown in it for all he cared. "Lily, I tried," he called upwards, his voice echoing through the fan. "I tried, I tried, what more do you want from me!" He curled up on himself, his head bowed, his arms clasped around him as though he would fall apart. Perhaps he already had.

Love, Dumbledore had said, was the most powerful force in the world. "Lily," he sobbed. "I did it because I loved you; doesn't that count for anything? I loved you... _I love you!_" But there was no answer, and the only sound in the room was of the whirring of the fan, and of the man's deep cries and moans of agony. Dumbledore had lied, just like he had about everything else. Love was by no means the most powerful; hatred could prevail just as easily.

After a few minutes, Snape finally grasped for the vial around his neck, ready to be done with this place and move on to whatever true Hell awaited him. To die by his own poison had always been the most pleasurable option he could afford himself, ever since the night of her murder. He took a breath, wrinkling his nose against the rank air, and moved to pop out the cork.

But then, after having just closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, he opened them and took in a sharp breath of surprise. Floating in front of him was the scrap of white cloth, once again clean and free from the blood and rust that had sullied it earlier. He dared not grasp for it, but he hesitantly held out his cupped hands for it to fall into if it wished. But at the same time, he could not help but look up in hopes that he might see a glimmer of Lily's arms reaching out to him.

There was nothing to be seen but the cloth, which hovered in one place before dropping into his dirty, outstretched hands. To his dismay, he left no fingerprints, and even as he wiped a finger across it, it remained pure. He held it reverently, clasping it to his chest.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," he said quietly, unsure if she could hear him. "I... I'll do my best."

It was a few minutes more before he felt able to deal with his surroundings, after which he rose and carefully tied the cloth around his wrist, tucking it safely beneath the cuff of his shirt. Then he went back to the riddle plate with a bit more confidence, looking to examine it more closely. It seemed to him, however, that the riddle and the empty dishes were requiring something, and he looked around at the blank walls. "Where am I supposed to find these things?" he asked in the general upwards direction.

He jumped as two slabs of the wall jolted out of place, moving aside more quickly than seemed possible for such heavy material. He was left staring into two opposite hallways, both so dimly lit that their ends were made immeasurable by the darkness. His only clue was in two signs that had appeared above either entrance: 'West Wing' and 'East Wing'. So he was indeed still in Riverside Elementary. Or Midwich, as this town called it.

He turned the riddle over in his mind again as he chose the East Wing, thinking that the triangular shape of the building would eventually lead him back here anyway. It was the second part of the riddle that was most important, he thought, and after focusing on it for a moment the answer came to him. The disturbing bits aside, it was looking for something that 'thinks' and something that 'loves'. Perhaps something symbolizing a heart and a brain? But then the last part... Something he wanted to save...?

"_And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?_"

He stopped abruptly in the doorway, the memory coming on so strongly that it momentarily overpowered his vision. The thing he had wanted to save was his soul.

He was startled again as the concrete sealed itself behind him with a bang, leaving him in relative darkness. The scarce light that was present in the hallway seemed not to come from any particular source; it simply hung in the air like a blanket of thick smoke.

The beam of the torch wavered over each room number as he directed it, looking for a room he was familiar with. At least there was perhaps a better chance of finding what he was looking for there. Room 104; he remembered the one boy who he had actually been friends with had been placed in that classroom. But the door was locked. It made sense, he supposed; the boy had been murdered by a drunk neighbor just days before beginning fourth grade.

The teacher he had hated most had been in Room 109; that door was also locked. He wondered if any of these doors were open, or if part of the scenario was that they were all closed to him. Maybe it was just a hall of empty memories.

Suddenly the creak of a door was heard, over what he realized had been the whirring of the fan, carrying impossibly through the entire hall. This time he was not so foolish as to think it was Lily, and he cautiously readied the pipe as he watched a shadow emerge from Room 104.

It growled, and the beam of his torch fell across the form of what seemed to be some kind of dog-like creature. Of all things, thought Snape. Its eyes glowed red in the darkness, and they might have actually illuminated the air around it if it hadn't been bathed in his light. It paused a few meters away from him, close enough for him to see the blood caked in its yellow teeth, and then it pounced with a piercing snarl.

Snape swung at it and missed as it sailed by him. But it rebounded more quickly than he could and turned again -just narrowly missing the chance to get its teeth around his arm, but still managing to put a few deep slashes into it with its claws. Snape let out a cry of pain, but then turned into the creature's next pounce and hit it directly in the muzzle, sending it flying back against the wall with a yelp.

It seemed unfazed as it got up again, circling menacingly around him. He wasn't sure if he could kill this thing; it was much more solid than the creatures he had encountered outside, not to mention faster and decidedly more frightening.

The next move later occurred to Snape as a miracle: the monster attacked again, and he jabbed outward with the pipe in just enough time to hit it squarely in the chest. When it crumpled momentarily in front of him, he swung downward and heard its front legs crack under the force. It howled, a horrifying sound, and began to writhe on the floor, cutting itself on the broken tiles; as soon as he had a definitive aim, he brought the pipe down on the creature's throat and silenced it. After another moment, its eyes dimmed and went black.

Breathing heavily, Snape stared down at the thing, becoming more and more disturbed by the moment. It almost seemed familiar. Though the creature's large frame was wrapped mostly in rotten bandages, he could see through the gaps where tufts of shaggy black fur poked through.

"B- Black...?"

"_Hey Snivellus, I heard you used to go to a Muggle school before you got here."_

Blood began to seep out of the corpse, oozing from between the bandages and pooling between the tiles.

"_Maybe you should have stayed there; you're practically a Squib anyway. Besides, you must be cleaning out the school's scholarship fund by the looks of those robes, huh? What does your dad DO, anyway? Someone told me he was a mill worker; THAT makes good money, doesn't it?"_

Snape felt tempted to hit the creature again for good measure, but he winced as the wound in his arms began to sting. He cursed aloud; he had forgotten all about that.

Moving away from the monster, he knelt down and directed the torch to examine the cuts in his arm, just below his shoulder. Judging by the filthiness that surrounded him, if one of the monsters didn't kill him surely the infection would. He should have been more careful; this practically meant the end of him.

In a move of desperation, Snape drew his wand and began to cast a nonverbal healing spell over it, though there was no reason it should have worked. Strangely, a blue glow emitted from the tip, and seeped into the torn flesh. The spell dimmed, and beneath the ripped material of his shirt, the skin was raw and new. His brow furrowed, and he looked curiously at his wand.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, pointing it outwards. Nothing happened.

He replaced his wand in the bag, wondering if perhaps he was only allowed healing spells. But then he noticed something strange; one of the gold discs he had found earlier had vanished, leaving only one. So that's what it was for, he thought, and the concept struck him as oddly funny.

The end of the hall was close, and he gathered himself before approaching the door that led into the next hall. It seemed not much different than the previous one, though he paused for a moment to scan the area for any more of the dog monsters. He rather hoped that it had just been the one, but he doubted it.

A few doors down was a hallway that led off to the left. He remembered that the school had been too poor to afford a playground, and so they had put concrete in the school's sole courtyard and sent the children out to play there. It was slightly safer with the walls rising up around them- one never knew who was lurking around the school- but it sometimes felt like a prison, too, with nowhere to hide.

As he passed it, he paused mid-step. Though he could still hear each of the fan's rotations- a notion disturbing in itself- he could have sworn to have heard the distant laughter of children. He shone his light down the dark hallway, and the laughter became louder.

The sound filled his ears as he approached the door leading outside, and it opened with a screech of rusty metal. But, as he stepped forward and let the door click shut behind him, the laughing stopped abruptly. Even the sound of the fan was gone, leaving him in complete silence. He moved forward to stand in the middle of the courtyard, noticing that the architecture of this school- with its three main halls and the open middle- was not wholly unlike that of Azkaban. The idea gave him shivers for a moment, before he was distracted by something sharp hitting him across the back. He turned quickly, seeing nothing.

The torch beam moved back and forth around the perimeter of the courtyard, though there seemed to be nothing to reveal. Perhaps he was just imagining things...

This time something hit his cheek, causing him to let out a cry of surprise as his hand went to it. A peal of laughter came from somewhere to the left of him, but he saw only a few remaining wisps of shadow once he shone the light there. Then there was another movement behind him, more laughter, and no matter how quickly he averted the light, the number of shadows and the volume of the laughter only seemed to increase.

Two more objects hit him, one in his stomach, the other in his shoulder. For a moment he dared to shine the light downwards to see what the objects were, though they seemed to just be a few small pieces of the broken concrete. Then the memories came back.

_He had been sitting in the corner with a book, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. Today he was alone, with one of his friends dead and the other in the hospital with a mysteriously broken arm. Even as Severus was in the process of hoping the same would not happen to him, one of the largest boys had discovered that the edge of one piece of concrete was crumbling, and that the broken fragments would be perfect for throwing._

_The first one hit Severus directly in the forehead, causing him to cry out in pain._

"_Gonna cry, Snape?" the bigger boy asked, tossing another piece of concrete from one hand to the other. "It not like you can cry to your mommy anyway. She's too busy being a whore." A few more boys joined him, while the rest of the children watched from the corners of their eyes. They all knew what happened to those who got in the way of these boys- that was how Severus had become their prime target in the first place. _

"_How about we give you something to really cry about?" sneered one of the other boys, before promptly hurling his piece of concrete. They rest of them soon followed suit, and Severus could do nothing but try and shield himself with the flimsy book._

He was still alone. The stones were coming fast and hard now, from all directions, raining down in continuous waves. The laughter rang in his ears, disorienting him. He could do nothing but try to shield himself, unsure if he was supposed to do something or if this was perhaps all part of what was meant for him here. Even if there _was_ something for him to do, he couldn't think of what it was.

After years and years of feeling powerless, this was no different. There was nothing he could do.

_There was nothing he could do. A stone hit him above the eye, drawing blood, and he could feel nothing but complete helplessness. No one would ever help him. He huddled against the brick wall with his arms protecting his head._

"_Go away... Make them stop."_

The memory came back to him, and though he seemed unsure if it would work, he clenched his fists with a new sense of determination.

"_I want to make them stop," he whispered, thinking of the things his mother could do; those otherworldly, magical things. "I want that power." And as he began to focus, a wind began to whip around the courtyard, making him shiver. "I want it. I want it."_

Snape stood with his brow furrowed, his eyes clenched shut.

"I am not powerless," he whispered, ignoring the stone that had just gouged a mark above his eye. He could almost hear the fan become louder, almost deafening. "I took that power. I have it. I have it."

"_I want them to stop. I have to make them stop." The windows around them suddenly began to rattle in their panes._

"I am a wizard," he whispered to himself. "I have power. I can control that power." He took a breath and shouted as loudly as he could, not caring about the pieces of concrete that struck him, "I am not a child anymore!"

_The next thing he heard was the shattering of glass and a number of screams from the boys and the other students alike. He peeked through his hands, seeing the broken glass as it tinkled to the ground. There were cries of pain, crunching of the shards underfoot, and the distant click of the courtyard door as it opened._

Snape opened his eyes, his hands trembling. It was silent. The window behind him had shattered and the pieces had flown around him, crashing to the concrete in thousands of tiny sparkling shards.

From the darkness, one final stone rose up and clattered to a halt in front of him. But this one, different from the grey and blood-soaked concrete, was a luminous violet, and seemed to fend off the darkness on its own. He picked it up, feeling oddly safer now that the whirring of the fan had returned, and examined it further. It seemed to be a coarse amethyst stone and yet... The explanation came to him: amethyst was widely known- especially among alchemists- to be the precious stone most closely in-tune with the human soul.

Though he was sure nothing else would harm him in the courtyard, he nonetheless tucked the stone into his bag and made a quick exit back into the school. He just wanted to be rid of the place.

It was not as though he felt safe back inside, but the feeling of exhilaration in his chest staved off the fear that had gripped him so firmly. His hand tightened around the end of the pipe, and he whispered to himself again, "I am not a child anymore." He felt suddenly as though he had power over his situation, and that this school was of no consequence, being so far in his past. "I am not a child anymore."

He could control this situation, he thought. This was nothing he couldn't handle, at least for a little while.

After passing a few more doors, Snape caught sight of a long, rusty metal box bolted to the wall, and an old story sprung to mind. About a decade before he had attended Riverside, the box had contained both a fire extinguisher and a fire axe. After an older student had gone mad and nearly hacked two other children to pieces, they refused to have it replaced. Though he did not like the idea of it, he almost smiled when he saw that the axe was where it had once been.

He broke through the glass with the pipe and carefully reached inside to retrieve the new weapon. Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised that there was already blood on it. What a town, he thought. Not everyone had come from drunken households; some children were simply poor. But it was safe to say that the bars downtown were never out of business, and as a result he was sure that the bullies were merely mimicking the abuse they received at home.

A noise caught his attention for a moment, but as he directed his light down the hallway, there seemed to be nothing. Almost as a precaution, however, he began to sharpen the axe head on the concrete of the wall.

There was another sound, like the squelch of mud beneath someone's boot, but the hall was again empty as he looked either way. He began to sharpen the axe more quickly. Another squelch, and another, and just as it was beside him he swung out with the blade. It connected with nothing, only leaving him to totter with the strength of his blow. He stepped forward, looking into empty space.

An ear-splitting screech came from behind him and he turned just in time to see a dark shape swing forward from the ceiling and narrowly miss hitting him full on. It moved too erratically to have a clear shot at it, swinging from side to side and writhing against itself. While the two legs seemed attached to the ceiling, a long sheet of flesh seemed to be pulled downwards over its head, leaving it to struggle against it.

But he had no more time to stare; a number of growls drew his attention to where three of the dog monsters had appeared, seeming to come out of nowhere. He backed away as slowly as he could while still avoiding the hanging creature, and after a few moments, he turned and made a run for it.

He could hear the claws of the dogs clacking against what remained of the tiles, and he could almost hear their breathing as he chose a door, hoping with all his might that it was unlocked. It swung out before him, and he slammed it shut just as several thumps sounded from the other side. "I have power, I have power..." He strained against the door, repeating the mantra to himself, and within a minute or so the sound died away. They had given up for the time being.

Was this...? He nodded to himself, remembering this room. Without the money for a gymnasium, they generally put the students in the courtyard; when it rained, they put them here. The mats that were usually laid down were slippery with what he didn't want to think about, though it seemed odd to him that the large mirror was undamaged. In fact, it seemed almost to illuminate itself, allowing him to see the room clearly, despite the darkness.

He hesitantly approached the mirror, examining himself for the first time in at least a year. Of course, this was hardly a time to be admiring himself; on the contrary, he looked terrifying. Blood from the various monsters had splattered up onto his clothing, and his face was covered with sweat and grime from the mere contact with such a disgusting environment. Two small bruises had begun to form on his face as well, marks from the experience he had just had in the courtyard.

He sighed audibly, unsure when it would be safe to go back into the hallway. For the moment, his eyes were again drawn to himself in the mirror, as though it was odd to see himself with such a sense of mortality. He watched in the mirror as his brow furrowed, and then he froze as something changed. His eyes became darker, and a stain began to seep from his lower lashes, making him gasp and wipe at his face. Though his hands came away no dirtier than they had been before, he looked back at his reflection to plainly see the blood dripping down his cheeks.

The room around him suddenly began to morph as well; bits of plaster were falling from the ceiling and causing him to leap aside, the mats became spongy and swollen with blood beneath his feet... The air became thick with the smell of what he knew was rotting flesh. Suddenly the sound of the fan was deafening, almost enough to make him cry out in pain.

He looked back at himself in the mirror, where his reflection was not fumbling for the door with one sleeve over his nose, but instead standing passively in the center of the room, blood pouring from his eyes and nose and mouth and seemingly every pore until his entire body was painted crimson. Snape turned desperately at the doorknob, and watched in horror as his reflection let out a pained moan and began to claw at itself in its agony. He had to turn away, though the sound of ripping flesh was loud enough over the fan to make him sick.

He chanced to look back, still pounding at the door, and began to feel even more ill than he had before. His reflection had chunks of its own bloody flesh clutched in its hands, its chest torn open to reveal bone and muscle and all of its internal organs. It took hold of two ribs, snapping them as its screams rang out, and then it reached deeply into itself, grasping at its heart and then pulling it out, veins and ligaments ripping, blood pouring from the empty cavity, the thing's screams echoing painfully around him.

But just as his reflection raised its arm as though to throw the still-pulsing organ, the doorknob came loose and Snape practically flew back into the hallway, slamming the door behind him and sinking down its length. He pressed his hands firmly against his chest, as though suddenly very conscious of his own innards, which were presently squirming in a way that was more than a little uncomfortable. His forehead rested on his knees for just a moment, as he tried to calm his churning stomach. Luckily the hallway was clear at least. Luckily he hadn't eaten anything for a while either.

Then something occurred to him. One of the things he needed was a heart, wasn't it? He looked upwards where the doorknob glimmered ominously.

"Oh hell."

After another moment he rose and took a deep breath before chancing to crack open the door. It seemed quiet enough, and though he could not say that the smell was pleasant, it at least didn't reek of week-old corpse.

He entered cautiously, keeping the door open, and he stayed by it for a moment to make sure it would stay that way. The room seemed for the most part exactly as he had found it when he had first entered, only this time his light found what seemed to be a real human heart resting in the center of the floor. He approached it carefully, and then looked up at his reflection to make sure it was still actually his own.

After a moment, he realized that he had no reflection at all.

The next thing he knew he had already snatched up the heart and was darting for the door, slamming it behind him for the second time. He caught his breath and then looked down at the organ in his hands, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He stuffed it into his bag with only enough care to be sure it wouldn't be crushed, thankful that at least it wasn't covered in blood like it had been before.

Snape was not surprised when he heard the approach of one of the dog monsters- he was still not inclined to call them 'Sirius Black monsters' or 'grim monsters', though either of those might have described them more accurately. On the other hand, perhaps his aversion of the fact was what made them keep coming as they did.

"Alright," he said aloud, beginning to understand. "Your little test, Lily? You want me to face Black?" The creature approached and growled again as it tossed its head, sending blood-streaked slobber in every direction. But it wasn't the head that Snape was interested in, rather what was within it. "I can do that for you."

This time it was he who attacked first, the axe swinging wildly as the creature just barely leaped away. But Snape, driven by determination, was too quick to let it recover and swung the blade directly into its throat. It let out a choked yelp, falling to the floor, and before it had a moment to recover Snape had sunk the axe head into its skull.

It was spewing a fluid too dark to be blood, but he unwaveringly twisted the blade so that the bone around it gave a sickening crack. His hands already covered with gore, he ripped away what was left of the skull and looked expectantly downwards, hoping to find the last key to the riddle.

There was nothing more than a soup of the thick blackness, leaking like tar onto the floor. It had no brain at all, leaving him to stare down at it in disbelief.

He looked up as he heard a familiar squelching, seeing one of the hanging monsters from before. He rose and hefted the axe in his hand. "I don't suppose you have a brain either?" he retorted.

But something about the creature struck him then: the way it struggled as though tangled in its own hanging flesh, the way in which it seemed unnatural in its upside-down state, the occasional grunt or moan it made as it trudged forward.

"_Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"_

Any of the confidence he might have had left him suddenly, and he backed up along the hall. After all, the hanging creature did not seem to pose any immediate threat, and something about killing it struck him as unsettling. He could practically feel the blood drain from his face.

He had been keeping his eye on the thing, and so he jumped noticeably when the metal pipe he had discarded earlier suddenly sprouted from its chest. It let out a scream and fell to the ground, the pipe ripping through it as it hit the floor. Snape stood frozen in terror as the fan became louder, and he strained to see past the range of his torch. A figure plodded into view, walking as though weighed down by a heavy burden.

The smell of rotting flesh grew strong again as Snape stared. It was draped in sparse, ragged black robes that hung over skeletal limbs; there was no muscle or flesh to be seen about it, just tight blue-grey skin. Its face- if it had any- was obscured from view by a hood tied tightly at its neck, and even at this distance he could hear its labored breathing. Its hands moved towards its chest, the fingers long and bony, and Snape realized that he had neglected to notice the protrusion from the split front of its robes. It seemed to be the hilt of a large sword...

Snape didn't need any more details. He bolted for the end of the hallway and ripped the door open, closing it behind him and wildly looking about the new area in search of anything that might try to attack him. It was empty. The fan had resumed its regular volume, and he didn't think he could hear the monster pursuing him. But that was no ordinary monster; he could feel it. Just in case, he found the lock on the door and clicked it to the left.

He paused, collecting himself for a few moments, and began to think of where he could get a brain. The science lab came to mind, but in the real Riverside, the only thing the science lab had to offer was an extra sink and a yellowing poster of Einstein. They never had specimens available, even for the oldest students. But of course, this was an entirely different world, and he was sure that a brain wasn't the only thing he would find.

Room 306. The door creaked open and he tentatively took a step inside, trying to see into the darkness with the torch. But despite the fact that he had firmly kept his hand on the doorknob, it wrenched out of his grasp and slammed shut. There were a series of clicks as the lights in the ceiling flickered to life, filling the room with a dark blue glow.

He readied his axe only to find himself swept off his feet by some unseen force, which then thrust him into a rusty chair that sagged under his weight.

_He had gone up to the teacher with tears in his eyes, his hands tenderly cupped against his face. One of the larger boys had punched him, thoroughly breaking his nose with a crack. He wiped the blood away, whimpering quietly, and lowered his hands to reveal that the feature in question had been smashed into an awkward and painful-looking angle._

"I see no difference."

Snape clapped a hand over his mouth; those had not been his words. They hadn't even come from his lips and yet he had felt his tongue slip cruelly over the syllables, each one slithering vehemently from his mouth.

"_Laziness," the woman had whispered silkily. "Sheer laziness."_

"_I was working as hard I could, I swear!"_

"But you were not working hard enough."

He writhed in his seat, trying to break free, but the voices in his head and the spinning of the room were proving too powerful. "I am not a child anymore," he repeated. "I am not a child anymore." But this had nothing to do with his childhood and he knew it.

_Her lips curled cruelly as she swept towards him, her steps undistinguishable from each other. She seemed to glide across the room, hovering over him. He had been trying to arrange his tattered shirt to hide the grass stains on it. "Such a pig," she hissed, her voice becoming increasingly waspish._

"Just like your father."

_A paper of his fluttered into the garbage can beside her desk._

"Oops. Looks like another zero, Potter."

"Enough, enough!" He looked wildly around, seeing his old potions classroom as images of himself and the teacher he hated most flash in and out of his vision.

"_I think I'll have you scraping the gum off the desks after school."_

"I'll have you cleaning ingredient barrels..."

He had been clawing for the axe handle that had fallen beside him, and his fingers were just barely able to wrap around it.

"_I can see that this education had been wholly wasted on you."_

"Pathetic."

"_You stupid boy."_

He let out a shout and heaved the weapon upward, letting it go with as much strength as he could muster. It twirled through the air almost audibly, until the sound of shattering glass rang out, mingling with that woman's scream, and his own scream. The room spun more violently for a moment, images of his classroom and his office flashing clearly in his eyes...Then it went still, leaving him in the science lab as he remembered it.

His knees wobbled as he rose, determinedly making his way to the front of the class where the teacher's desk stood. Though she had taught first grade science in Room 109, her major had been in chemistry.

Breathing heavily, he rounded the desk and looked down on the seat of the chair. The brain seemed unharmed by the glass that surrounded it or the axe head that had buried itself just a few centimeters to its left, and so he automatically picked it up, retrieved the axe and made for the door. At this point he couldn't even process all of it.

The door closed behind him, and he found himself sitting at the foot of it as though his legs could no longer support him. He sat there for at least a full minute, staring blankly at the wall in front of him with the brain still clutched in one hand. The room with the mirror had certainly made him feel nauseous, but what he had just experienced had sickened him in a very different way. It wasn't until he realized how disgusting the organ in his hand was that he managed to pick up the axe that had fallen next to him and haul himself to his feet. He was feeling lightheaded, and barely even registered the squishing sound of suctioned feet between himself and the door that led back to the main room.

Now that he was able to stand again, he looked at the approaching creature with a mix of curiosity and pity, unsure if he should kill it or leave it alone or if there was any other option... It made a particularly erratic motion, ramming itself against the wall and sending a sprinkle of broken plaster to the floor.

There was really nothing he could do. He could not help that it had happened; it had. He only wished his own actions during the incident had been a little less... Erratic.

So, with the brain cradled in the crook of his arm, he took a running start towards the creature and managed dodge and duck beneath it, leaving it hanging as he reached for the doorknob. But, just as he was closing the door, he noticed that it had stopped its swinging and was simply hanging there benignly.

This left Snape in the main room again, the fan still whirring just as loudly as it had in any other point of the building. He did not have time to think this odd, however; he simply went to the riddle and the plates spread out in the wall. The brain he was glad to be rid of, and he quickly placed it in the first dish. The heart came out of his bag next, still pulsing slightly, and went into the third dish. And then, finally, the amethyst came out of the bag's front pocket and was placed into the last available space, and it glowed slightly as it hit the metal.

He stepped back, his eyes tracing the wall, and then the sound of grinding stone was heard as it was pulled back and slowly pushed to the side by some unseen force. The new room was nothing more than a sea of darkness, and no matter where he shone the torch there was nothing to be seen but the black. Snape looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve and drew out the piece of cloth, still white and as clean as when he had found it. He nodded to himself, as though for encouragement, and he stepped into the inky darkness.

Within a few steps, he heard the wall begin to close behind him, and terror began to grip him as he watch the sliver of light grow thinner and thinner. With a bang, it was pitch-dark, with nothing to guide him.

There was a click, and he saw above him another fan come into view, the same as the one outside except that its light was white and pure. "Lily?" he called out. He stared up at the light, thinking that it had to be like a spotlight for an angel, a galleon-sized gift of silver purity from heaven, a stage for Lily when she appeared to him. After all, she had said she would be there.

A sound- almost like a roar- made him look upwards, and his eyes widened helplessly. A balcony bathed in darkness encompassed the circular room, and along it nearly two dozen of the dogs were stationed, all of them growling and barking down at him. He was dead, he thought, staring into four dozen glittering red lights. He didn't stand a chance.

But then another growl came from behind him, and it was this that caused him to break out into an uncomfortably cold sweat. He turned slowly, not really wanting to know where the low howl had come from. It cantered into his line of vision: a massive beast covered in ragged brown fur, its limbs thin and sinewy, its teeth bared into a razor-sharp snarl.

The he realized that the galleon-sized light, the one that shone like the silvery gift from heaven, also resembled a perfectly full moon. He stared frozen with the deepest terror, and then the werewolf pounced.

Snape just barely dived out of the way. The creature was much faster than any of the dogs he had encountered; speaking of which, he was rather hoping they just stayed where they were. But with another lunge towards him, the most immediate threat pushed this thought aside. He managed to land a blow on its arm, but it did nothing but recoil and snarl louder. He had only made it angry.

It turned, its eyes dark with rage, and raked its claws across his chest, pinning him to the ground. The only thing preventing it from taking a large bite out of his throat was the handle of the axe that he had managed to get between them. With a roar of effort and pain, Snape managed to wrestle it away from him before it could sink its claws into him again. The werewolf retreated for a split second, leaving him to breathe heavily in the rancid air. He really wasn't strong enough for this.

It came again, and this time Snape summoned all of his strength to swing with the axe, catching the monster under the chin and throwing it aside with a bodily thump. His arms were beginning to ache with the strain, but he moved forward to again hit the monster with the flat of the blade, hard enough to hear the cracking of bones in its muzzle.

It was slower in getting up this time, and it seemed to be choking on the blood in its mouth. Snape gave it no time to recover and made one last swing into its throat... But it sprung up suddenly, fueled by death's adrenaline that ran through it, and latched its teeth into Snape's shoulder.

He swore loudly and tried to throw it off, but every attempt only brought the monster's teeth deeper. Blinded by pain, he tried to jam the end of the axe handle into its face, and it hit the corner of its jaw, forcing it open. Then, before it even had time to hit the floor, Snape managed to bury the blade of the axe deep into its chest. It thrashed only briefly, its limbs flailing helplessly as it whimpered, and then it went still.

There was a silence as Snape almost dropped the axe and fell to his knees in exhaustion, but he heard the clicking of claws from the balcony above him. With dread in his eyes, he looked upwards towards the pairs of glowing eyes... But they had turned away from him, and were disappearing into the darkness.

He heaved a sigh of relief, still struggling to catch his breath. Surely Lily had been helping him to some extent, or perhaps that hadn't been a legitimate werewolf. In the real world, it would have been difficult to kill such a creature even with magic, never mind with a clumsy Muggle weapon. But then it occurred to him. Perhaps... Now that he thought about it, werewolves had always been one of his greatest fears. After the incident under the Willow in his sixth year, just the thought of their teeth and claws and the sheer ferociousness of their manner...

It hadn't been just Lupin, though he could not say that he wasn't afraid of him either. Perhaps Greyback had instilled that fear within him, as he had with all other people. Simply... It was so difficult for him to think of werewolves as people, rather than ticking time bombs set to go off once a month. Perhaps in some ways, he wasn't any more stable than they were.

He looked back to where the werewolf lay and was startled to see that it had changed in form. It still retained some of its general lupine qualities, but it was unmistakably more human in appearance. It had lost its muzzle and ears, and its limbs were no different from that of a lean, slender man. In fact, the longer Snape stared down at it, the more human it seemed until it appeared to be nothing more than the battered, rag-draped corpse of a thin man. Something like pity stirred in Snape's heart, and he was about to look away when something caught his eye.

Around the werewolf's- the creature's, the man's- neck was a small vial that he had neglected to notice in the panic of their fight. He severed it with the blade of the axe, careful not to damage the flesh of the bring that carried it any further, as it suddenly seemed too fragile and vulnerable at his feet. He noticed only that there was a piece of parchment and what seemed to be a key inside; the rest he decided could wait until he was outside and away from this corpse that was making him more and more uncomfortable.

The other side of the room was fitted with the desk of the administrative office he had seen upon first entering, though the shade was drawn and almost black with decay. Surely he could find a way through it, he thought, until the feeling that he was being watched made him turn.

Snape's eyes widened as he saw a silver stag begin pawing at the corpse of the once-monster, bathing that side of the room in light. He dipped his muzzle down to nudge the hand, then the head, and his ears flattened suddenly as though he had just discovered that it was dead. He looked slowly up at Snape, stepping over the body, and let out a menacing snort as he pawed at the air.

Before Snape knew it, he had covered half the distance between them, and the man could do nothing but brings his arms up and wait for the impact.

The stag itself passed straight through him, but he could not help but let out a scream as it did. The sound of Lily's own scream rang out in his ears, and he could feel her terror as she spent her last seconds worrying for the safety of her child. He heard every harsh word he had ever spoken to a guiltless student; he could feel their fear and their pain through undeserving lectures and detentions. He heard the ill sentiments spoken against Remus Lupin, and he could feel anguish the man had felt at knowing that so many perceived him as a monster. He felt Sirius Black's guilt over not being there for his godson. He heard his own vindictive prodding, the goading that had resulted in Black leaving Grimauld Place and being killed at the Ministry. He felt every ounce of Harry Potter's loss.

The room became dark again, as all of these things swirled simultaneously inside him, and after they had ebbed even in the slightest, Snape staggered for a moment and collapsed onto the floor.


	4. The Mask, Greenfield Apartment Complex

Chapter Three

Snape slowly opened his eyes, partly glad that the stag was gone and partly terrified of what was coming next. But, much to his relief, he found himself leaning against the wall opposite of the secretary's office, the hall once again covered in nothing more malicious than dust and cobwebs. He sat there for another minute or so, relishing the feeling of safety.

A minute was all he had, since the clicking of clawed paws on the tile caused him to lurch onto his feet. He had thought for sure that those monsters had only existed in that other world, but...

He eased up slightly when the animal came into view; just a big, scruffy-looking black dog. It didn't bleed or trail rotting bandages, and neither did its eyes have that red, demonic glow. But it did growl when it caught sight of Snape, and tensed back on its hind legs.

But then there came another sound, and a grey pup appeared beside it, its tail wagging amiably. Snape began to back up a little, and the puppy only responded by giving a yap and running up to him as fast as it could, chasing its tail in front of him.

"Alright," he said sternly, carefully moving it aside his with foot. "Go back now. Go. I don't-" He looked up to see the black dog gone, and for a moment his mouth hung open. "This is some kind of joke."

The puppy was sitting patiently, panting slightly and continuing to wag its tail. "Lily," he called. "What am I supposed to do with this! I came here looking for _you_ and you can't just..." He trailed off suddenly, realizing with a sense of dread that he had just gone through all of that without seeing so much as a hair on Lily's head. Hadn't she said that she would meet him at the school?

He remembered the glass bottle he had found and fished it out of his bag, looking critically down at the dog as he popped out the cork. With a few firm shakes, a small piece of parchment fell into his palm, followed by a simple brass key. He opened the note with his free hand and read:

_I was just testing you. There are still a few more things you must face before you meet me, if you still wish to do so. What happens next is up to you. The town will be watching your actions closely, and will judge accordingly._

_- Lily_

And that was all. He stared down at the words with his brows furrowed in disbelief. It didn't seem possible that she could be this cruel, he thought, but then the echoes of what the stag had made him feel flitted through his mind, and he gave a heavy sigh. Even the dog had stilled itself for the moment.

"Fine," he grumbled, and he made his way towards the door.

Though the air was still heavy, it seemed marginally fresher than anything indoors, and Snape took a deep breath as though to clear his lungs. But then, after pausing for a moment, he realized that it was snowing. It was only September, he thought, and the air wasn't nearly cold enough. He couldn't even see his breath. And yet it was unmistakable, made even more so by the way the dog had taken to catching the falling snowflakes its mouth.

Snape decided to take the most obvious route available to him: straight ahead. While he walked, with the dog trotting beside him, he began to examine the key further. He thought that there had to be some kind of clue... Even in the misty light, he was still able to make out letters along the key's length: GREENFIELD. Perhaps the map could give some kind of explanation..?

He fumbled with the axe while he got the map open, glancing up and down the streets as he walked. It seemed relatively quiet, but he had still taken to walking in the shadows of the sidewalk. According to the map, there was a Greenfield apartment complex on the other side of town. If he took a few turns with a bridge in-between, the whole trip wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. Of course, a lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

Snape stopped mid-step, partially because of the smell and partially because the dog had started to growl. He put the map away and looked into the distance, trying to make out exactly what was wrong. Within a few steps it hit him: the road was gone. It wasn't just plowed up or destroyed; the entire two blocks on the corner of the river had just disappeared, leaving nothing more than a torn piece of asphalt leading into a foggy abyss. The scent became stronger as he approached, smelling very distinctly of smoke and sulfur.

While he stood in horrified awe, the dog had continued down the street on his left, and he soon followed. Disturbing as the town was, at least there weren't any more monsters to be seen. Perhaps his semi-victory in the school had pushed them back into hiding or something similar.

Towards the end of the street, just as he was about to turn onto the bridge, Snape finally caught up to the dog, who had been rummaging determinedly through an old flower pot with its snout. "I am going to leave you behind if you don't keep up," he said to it as he passed, and then mentally reproached himself for speaking to the _dog_ of all things. It wasn't like it understood any of what was-

He had heard the dog run up to him excitedly, and he gave it a deprecating look as it came beside him. But the look turned to one of surprise as he saw one of the gold healing disks in its mouth.

"Oh," he said, not meaning for it to actually come out. He bent down to take it, trying not to react to the pure delight with which the dog panted at him. A 'thank you' came out as a begrudging mumble, and the two turned the corner towards the bridge.

It was not much longer before Snape began to get that eerie feeling again, as though the oppressive silence that had been so prevalent before was returning. He thought for a moment that it might just be the bridge itself, and the way that the water lay motionless beneath it, but he was sure he was beginning to hear some rumblings from behind him as well.

He wasn't even halfway before he heard something like a maniacal cackle, and an impossibly loud boom from behind him. It had caused such tremors to run through the bridge that he didn't even dare to stick around long enough to find out what it was, and seeing as the dog had already darted ahead with a frightened yelp, he soon followed.

Sprinting as fast as he could, Snape closed in on the end of the bridge, knowing already that there was no way he could make it to the apartments. He had never been athletic, even in his youth, and already he was beginning to run out of breath. Another crash and a peal of laughter, this one closer, spurred him into ignoring the stitch in his side and continuing. The dog was well ahead of him, and he saw it dart to the left and into a crack in the open police station door. With bars on the windows and surely a strong lock on the door, that was presently his best bet. Just as he closed in on it, he chanced a look backwards.

Whatever it was, it was huge; bigger than himself at least. It leaped with long, frog-like legs, trailing a sweeping, shadowy black cloak behind it as it whipped back and forth between sidewalks, pouncing on cars and building ledges alike. It let out another drunken giggle, and Snape let the door slam shut behind him.

He could vaguely hear the dog whimpering in some corner, but he ignored it for the moment, frantically looking around for either somewhere to hide or some kind of weapon. There had been a scary movie he had seen as child that featured some kind of rotating blade machine, maybe something like that...

An open cabinet caught his eye as he began to hear each of the monster's footfalls, then a loud smash followed by a car alarm.

His blood froze as he found a shiny black handgun, resting on the shelf in front of him. The urgency of the matter seemed to fall away as he stepped back, not even being able to comprehend the object in front of him. It was more than an object. It was like an entity lying before him, holding more power than any human- any Muggle- should be trusted with.

"_Back upstairs, boy. This is between me and your mother."_

The barrel seemed to be an endless hole of nothingness, containing no more and no less than mortality itself. The Killing Curse took anger and rage and hatred to cast. With a gun, a person needed not possess anything more than one finger's strength to pull a trigger.

_Severus watched from the stairs, hidden in the shadow of the railing. The first shot had killed Eileen Snape, barely giving her time to scream out in pain. Her husband grinned down at the blood pooling around her head, and then he turned the gun on himself. The second shot rang out._

His hand wavered towards it. He couldn't do it, he thought. He couldn't even touch something so grotesque.

The sounds of the monster growing closer had been lost on him, and so he let out a yell when the window- bars and all- seemed to explode in an attempt to make way for the beast. The gun found its way into his hand, and he ducked behind one of the counters. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to kill the thing. The gun just felt so disgusting, so _wrong_ in his hand.

It was quiet save for the distant car alarm, but Snape was sure the thing was still in the room with him. He caught sight of a mirror above the main set of shelves, and saw that the monster was peering over the edge of the counter on the other side of the room. It turned, its hood falling away, and his hand tightened instinctively around the gun.

Its face took the shape of a silver Death Eater mask, a wicked-looking tongue lolling from its grinning mouth, framed by rows of long, razor-sharp teeth. Its black eyeballs seemed to be without lids, pulsing and bulging against the constraints of the mask, the crimson irises wildly flickering back and forth. Snape struggled to inhale silently, moving to the corner closer to the door. He might be able to find a back door and make a run for it or-

There was a whooshing sound and suddenly there was a piercing scream of delight as it appeared not a meter from his face. He could practically feel its breath on him as he lurched backward, but it was already upon him.

The blast didn't even register in his mind; he just knew that the monster had been knocked away with an agonizing howl, allowing him to scramble to his feet.

He could feel the grip of the gun, curving in his palm, along with his pointer finger resting tentatively on the trigger. He couldn't do it. The beast struggled to pick itself up, howling all the while, and in another wisp of smoke it had lifted itself onto the counter. One of its bulging eyes had been pierced, leaving torrents of black blood to gush out over the floor. It faltered, and then resumed its slow advance towards him, each step leaving puddles of gore at its feet.

He raised the gun, his hands trembling. The realization came upon him that he had already fired the weapon once, in his blind terror. But he didn't think he could do it consciously. The monster paused as though winding up on its legs, and then it came for him again.

The next few moments seemed to pass in a time lapse, an action and reaction during which his thought processes worked at a frame by frame pace. The monster was leaping, and the gun quivered. It was in midair, and his finger contemplated the trigger. He could feel its breath, count the jagged teeth, and his vision was filled with its chilling, ghoulish eyes. At the last possible moment, when he had fallen under death's shadow with most certainty, he closed his eyes and squeezed.

The shot rang out, causing another blood-curdling scream to emit from the beast as it fell backwards. He stared down at it and fired again, putting another crack into the mask and splitting it up the middle. Another shot, straight into its mouth. Its limbs spasmed as the blood poured from it, and he fired two more shots with an expression of revulsion. Another shot, another more than necessary, and with a final convulsion it went still.

The car alarm continued to beep in the silence.

Snape let out a breath and leaned heavily on the counter, throwing the gun down. His fingers found their way to the cloth still wrapped around his wrist, and couldn't help but begin to stroke it as though for comfort. He hated to admit it, but it helped. After a minute or so, a sound caught his ear from his right, and he spied a bit of scraggly grey fur poking from beneath a piece of fallen plaster. It squirmed a little, whimpering, and he walked over to lift the piece of rubble off of it.

It looked up at him, still shivering, and pawed hesitantly at the broken glass and brick. Snape sighed and hefted it up from beneath its belly, carrying it over to one of the counters that had avoided the shower of debris and setting it down unceremoniously.

In the meantime, he found the axe that he had dropped and retrieved it from under a few smashed pieces of the window frame. Just above it on the counter, the gun glittered mischievously. It was as if it were taunting him, seducing him, and after contemplating it for a moment he turned away. The mere presence of it was making him anxious, bringing about memories that he didn't wish to face... But at the same time, he knew he would have been dead without it. He chanced to look back at it, sitting there in mock innocence.

With a sigh of frustration he stuffed the axe through his belt and snatched up the gun.

The door to the cabinet from which he had first gotten the thing had been ripped off, and he rummaged through it to find a few boxes of bullets. These would be helpful, he thought, but only if he could figure out how to use them. The bottom shelf held a few old-looking handbooks, one of them even older than he was, and he managed to find at least one that would be helpful to him. This one in particular seemed to have something caught in its pages, and as he opened up to the section on the proper way to handle a gun, one of the golden healing discs fell out.

By the time the dog began to bark impatiently, Snape had successfully loaded and unloaded the gun twice, and he had memorized the exactly placement of the safety. He heaved himself to his feet, at least feeling a little better after the short rest, and also a bit more comfortable with the new weapon. After all, he had figured, it was better to adapt to something uncomfortable than to be dead, especially with the stakes as high as they were.

He gathered everything he needed and picked up the dog again, carrying it outside and letting it down on the clean pavement. He couldn't help but look back, though; it was so thoroughly destroyed inside that a bomb might as well have gone off in the place. He just hoped there was only one of that particular monster.

The walk to the apartments was uneventful, with no creatures to be seen but the puppy that scampered along beside him. Snape was actually a bit annoyed with it; there were all of these horrible things happening and somehow it was _still_ able to prance along and wag its tail to just be so goddamned _happy_. At least he didn't have to give it a name or anything. That would have been unbearable.

It had run off ahead of him a minute or so earlier, and Snape thought nothing of its return until he noticed that it carried something in its mouth. He hesitantly knelt down as the dog dropped the object in front of him, revealing it to be a girl's light blue shoe. Picking it up, he couldn't discern whether or not it was Lily's, or if it had ever been hers at any point. It was made for a very small girl, judging by the size, though he lacked the expertise to pinpoint exactly what age she might be.

He stood, looking up at the apartment building that loomed above him, and he gathered his courage before approaching the door. He drew the key out of his bag and found that it fit perfectly into the knob, but he paused before entering. The dog was panting again, and as it looked up at him it cocked its head to the side.

"Stay," said Snape, unsurely. The dog began to chew on his pant leg, and then spit it out and whimpered as it tasted the blood. "I said, stay." He opened the door slowly and the dog began to patter inside. "Sit," he said, this time more forcefully. "Stay..." He pointed to the concrete steps. "Here."

This went on for at least another minute before Snape gave a frustrated groan. "Fine! Do whatever you want!" And the dog sat. He stared at it incredulously for a second before sighing, "This is why I like cats," and then entering the apartment completely.

It was darker that the school had been, and so he switched on the torch. But the cold, grey light was still present, giving the room that same ghostly feel.

His heart suddenly lurched in his chest as he noticed the outline of a man watching him from the stairwell, and he shone his light on him with a yell of surprise. But he was gone. Snape stared hard at where he was sure the figure had been, trying to discern if he had just been a figment of his imagination. In a place like this, he knew better than to think so.

But his attention was drawn by a soft noise echoing from somewhere in the building, almost like the crying of a small girl. He strained his ears, trying to determine where it was coming from. "Lily?" he asked into the darkness. It seemed silly for him to continue to call for her so, but for some reason he couldn't bear to lose hope. He couldn't help but feel that the second he gave up on her, so would she give up on him.

The sound died away, and Snape ascended a small flight of creaking stairs to where the door to the main rooms was situated. Its hinges whined as he slowly swung the door open.

He stood at the end of the hall, facing its length. It was cold and dusty, and he was sure that he could hear a distant pipe leaking its contents drop by drop. Yet there seemed to be no sign, no defined direction in which he was supposed to go. He had hoped perhaps that there would be some clue in the foyer, but he was currently at a loss.

His footsteps resonated eerily between the two walls, despite being muffled by the musty carpet beneath him. It seemed too loud, interrupting the dripping and the sporadic groaning of the structure.

Another set of footsteps caught his ear, making him pause with the torch. The crying he had heard earlier echoed in his mind, and so he was hesitant to raise the gun at anything right now.

The feeling struck him as foolish the moment he saw the monster come into the light. It was the same one he had seen in the school, with its executioner's hood, dementor's hands and the sword jammed mercilessly into its chest. As Snape moved backwards, the creature reached for the sword hilt and took hold of it, giving a poignant grunt and a tug. Somewhere in the distance, an air raid siren began to sound.

There was a gruesome sucking noise as it began to pull the sword out of its body, its length seemingly coming from thin air. Snape had been trying all of the doors within his reach, but he stopped as a cry of pain forced its way out of his mouth. The Dark Mark began to sting almost unbearably, like a hundred needles buried into his arm, and he clutched it against his chest in an attempt to stop it.

The sword had been removed entirely at this point, and he could see a dark stain spreading rapidly from where its tip touched the floor. The siren had become louder, the pain was making his head spin... He fell to his knees and watched as the carpet below him changed into a steel grating, and the door he leaned on became covered in what could have been blood or liquid rust.

When the siren and the spinning and the pain and the smell of rotting flesh became too much for him, he fell briefly out of consciousness.

...

When Snape came to, he groaned as he saw his surroundings. It was like the school all over again, with the nightmarish blood dripping down every wall, the rusty metal flooring, the air smelling of death. It seemed even to be a bit more grotesque than the school had been, as though those halls had just been preparation. The agonizing fear that twisted in the pit of his stomach confirmed that notion.

Somewhere down the hall a door creaked open, and he stood as quickly as he could. He advanced slowly, the gun ready to shoot down whatever he was expecting to jump out at him. But nothing did. He stepped into the room with his brow knitted curiously.

When the door slammed shut behind him, it barely even startled him. What _did_ startle him was the room itself; he was standing in the entry hall of the Evans home. At least, that's what it was in theory. In actuality it couldn't have been further from it: the curtains that had always been so clean and airy now hung heavy with filth, the floors and the walls were dark and bloodstained, the smell of fresh laundry and the occasional loaf of bread had turned to the moldy, rancid stench of decay.

It was with a look of pain on his face that Snape entered further. Most likely he had spent more of his childhood summers in this house than in his own, and he had in all honesty considered Mr. and Mrs. Evans to be truer parents to him than either of his own.

The endtable near the doorway to the kitchen held a number of photos next to the telephone, just as he remembered. Strangely, as he wiped away the grime on each pane of glass, he could find no sign of Lily in any of them. Instead, each one showed her parents: June Evans with a few of her friends at the beach, Harry Evans at a party at the hospital in which he worked. He found one of them together and looked at it for a minute, and something about seeing their smiling faces after so many years, in such a place as this, saddened him deeply. But a motion forced him to look closer, and after a second he saw that within the picture, rivulets of blood had begun to run down their cheeks. He threw the frame down with a gasp and then let out a full-fledged yell as he came face to face with a figure looming above him.

He scrambled backwards, looking at the form of a body that had protruded a full meter out from the wall above the table. It was trapped behind the wallpaper, stretching it like a piece of taut fabric, hanging down at almost a ninety degree angle. Its arms extended in either direction, its head lolling as far forward as its restraints allowed, and after a moment Snape realized that as he had been staring at the picture, it had been silently descending upon him, creeping closer and closer. Although it now seemed not to move at all, the notion sent shivers down Snape's spine.

The sound of shattering glass spurred him past the body and into the kitchen, where a plate sailed into the next room and shattered across the wall. Another cabinet began to shake violently and two more plates flew at him, missing him narrowly and crashing as the previous one had. The refrigerator sprung open as he neared it in an attempt to duck, and on the bottom shelf he saw the butchered remnants of what had been their family cat. It suddenly convulsed with a horrifying yowl, sending clumps of hair and blood dripping to the floor.

The telephone began to ring, and as he looked in its direction he saw that the painting of the beach scene that had always hung on that wall was now replaced by an image of mangled corpses and hellfire. The faucet suddenly turned itself on and began to pour blood, while the doorbell began to chime repeatedly. Then there was a ripping sound, mingling with the rattling of dishes and the yowling and the telephone and the splattering from the sink. A heavy thump soon followed, then another from the other room.

Snape raised his gun, pointing it back and forth towards where two separate sets of footsteps were growing louder. But then he paled as the two figures came into view.

The larger one appeared first, coming from the hall with the telephone. A ragged, blackened doctor's coat hung about its frame, its face brown with rot and missing most of its teeth. Its eyes were missing as well, and two small red lights seemed to dance from deep within the empty sockets. And yet, it was unmistakable. It was Harry Evans' corpse that stumbled towards him; his red hair remained in matted tufts in his head, and the glasses he so often wore teetered on the bridge of his nose, both of the lenses smashed out.

From the living room came the smaller of the two, her once-beautiful auburn hair now hanging in meager ropes about her decaying face. The dress and apron that she had always taken such care to keep perfect now sagged in ragged strips where it had been partially torn away. Her features were the same as her husband's, with her bared teeth and empty eyes.

As though on cue there was a green flash, and the form of the Dark Mark exploded across the kitchen wall. Suddenly he noticed that it had been painted elsewhere around the house, but instead of the green glow, the rest of them glittered crimson. The mark on his arm prickled uncomfortably.

Snape backed up as far as he could and lowered the gun. The mask monster had been different; he hated the Death Eaters more than anything. But these were... These were her _parents_, he thought. _His_ parents. Surely...

He flinched as Mr. Evans' ghost took out a long, rusty syringe from his coat pocket, and he looked to see that his wife had already unsheathed an equally rusty bread knife.

His eyes flickered back and forth across the scene, looking for a way out. After a moment he darted off into the adjoining dining room that, if he remembered correctly, led back out to foyer. He stumbled over the chairs that slipped themselves into his path, and there were a few bits of china that flew at him from the cabinet. As he came to where the front door was, the plant that Mrs. Evans had always kept became sentient, and a long rope of vines sent him sprawling to the floor. He dragged himself up by the doorhandle, but it refused to move.

The two of them closed in, forcing Snape against the door. He couldn't shoot them. The Death Eaters had murdered them and he would not cement his place as one of them by repeating the deed. And if Lily was truly behind the things that were happening to him, he knew in his heart that to kill them again was not what she would have wanted.

Something clicked within his mind.

With the two creatures barely a few meters away, he dove into his bag and fished out the vial of Holy Water that he had found in the car. He wouldn't be able to throw it at them, but if he could only... The idea came to him and he quickly hurled it upwards, hoping he had thrown it hard enough. If he hadn't, he was dead.

The vial shattered, causing him to duck and shield himself as much from the falling glass as from the knife that had just been poised at his chest. There was a sizzling sound, and he looked up to see the lights in their eyes go out, and the dead flesh began to dissolve away. Within the minute, all that remained were two skeletons, both clean and pearly white.

The sounds of the other hauntings had ceased, leaving him in relative silence. Without taking his eyes from the skeletons, he reached for the doorknob and it turned obediently in his hand. Even so, as much as the idea was outrageous, he didn't wish to leave just yet. It was several minutes before he made a decision. He let go of the doorknob and knelt before the skeleton closest to him, belonging to which of the Evans he wasn't sure. With gentle arms he lifted it, and made his way to where he knew the bedroom was.

He laid it down carefully on the bed and then returned to the second one to repeat the act. Something about leaving them on the floor there struck him as wrong, especially after all they had done for him.

They had given him everything. He had been offered a warm place at their dinner table on cool, rainy nights, he had been honored with their presents at Christmastime... But they had given him something more than that.

"_Lily told me you've been getting top marks," said Mrs. Evans, as Severus helped her peel potatoes. "You must be very proud."_

"_Oh, I... I guess."_

_Mr. Evans had been listening to the conversation, and entered from the living room with his newspaper. "You ought to be," he said, giving a warm smile. "Keep up the good work; I know you have a bright future ahead of you."_

"_Uh..." He mirrored the older man's smile and looked at him with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "Thank you."_

"_No problem, son."_

For a moment he felt as though he had let them down, as if he had wasted the future that they had foreseen for him. He had not only let their daughter die at the hand of the Death Eaters, but he had let them die in the same manner. Only, he knew the Dark wizards had had some fun with the couple first, and the idea sickened him. He hoped that perhaps they could forgive him.

At the foot of the bed Snape saw a balled up sheet that lacked the filth that covered everything else, and he unfurled it with a snap of fabric. But as it fluttered down to cover the bodies, something else thudded across the floor. He looked down and caught sight of a flash of gold that had rolled underneath the leg of the nightstand. Thinking it to be another one of the healing discs, he knelt down to retrieve it, but his eyes widened as he saw it in his hand.

It was a golden music box, with tiny pearls inlaid into its cover. Snape had seen it before more times than he could count, and had heard it even more often. He could remember when he would flee Spinner's End in favor of Lily's house, looking for comfort. On one rainy day in particular, he remembered sitting in front of the fire with her, wrapped in a blanket, and she had opened the box and allowed the melody to sooth him as it had soothed her so many times before. Later, when they were at school and the music box lay hundreds of miles away, he would hum the song for her, giving her that same comfort in return.

With one more look around the room, Snape carefully put the music box in his bag and left. He thought for a moment that he might open it once again, but then he thought better of it. It would be silly to put himself through any more than he needed to.

He found himself in the hall again, and closed his eyes for a moment to fend off the dizziness that had overtaken him. But it was gone in a moment and he continued on. The only thing that puzzled him was that there had been no riddle or similar clue at the entrance. Surely he should have been given some hint as to what he should have been doing or where he should have been going. The music box, despite the emotions that had welled up as a result of finding it, seemed not to fit in any particular scheme of things.

These thoughts were disturbed after a short while when Snape suddenly felt as though he were being watched. He paused, readying his gun, and turned. There was nothing, perhaps only a stray ribbon of shadow that slithered between the ruts in the floorpanels.

He continued to walk, trying doors along the way, but they were all locked. However, he couldn't help but notice that each time he looked over his shoulder, there seemed to be the remnants of some shadow, flitting just barely out of the way of his torch beam. On the other hand, he thought, he had not encountered any true monsters as of yet. There was just this silence, and this unbearable tension in the darkness.

Finally one of the doors opened, and Snape peeked inside before he entered completely. Much to his dismay, it seemed for a moment that there was nothing in the room that intended to attack him. It was for the most part empty, with only a small desk in the corner and a window to his right. He experimentally turned the doorhandle, and it was apparent that there was nothing stopping him from leaving.

The desk seemed to be the only object of interest, and so he moved to examine it up close. There were only some smudged pieces of notebook paper, along with some broken pencils and a rather sad plastic pot of drooping, monochromatic flowers. None of these things seemed to be of any importance, but he could not shake the feeling that he was looking for something: a key, or a clue to this mystery, perhaps.

Every few moments he looked back over his shoulder, glancing at the window behind him. Its panes seemed unfathomable in their blackness, as if they had been painted over with tar. And yet, it seemed that at any moment something might emerge from those inky depths.

There was still something that drew him to the contents of the desk, and so he reached down to open one of the drawers along its side. There were more scraps of paper, a few blurry photographs, and an assortment of purple hair barrettes. Nothing immediately grabbed his attention. In the drawer below, however, was a single greying envelope. There was no writing on the exterior, and so he took it into his hands so as to inspect it further. When he opened it, it was as though it was the most natural thing to do, as though he had done it a hundred times before.

He did not notice that the flowers- which he might have discovered were petunias upon further inspection- had begun to tremble as though in fury.

_Dear Ms. Petunia Evans,_

_I was first and foremost flattered to receive your letter regarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I can only wish that people of your kind were always so accepting of our society. However, I regret to inform you that you do not have the qualifications to attend our school. Perhaps your parents have explained…_

But Snape did not need to read any further. He could recognize Dumbledore's handwriting anywhere, and he had certainly seen this particular letter before. He could practically hear Lily whispering into his ear, "_Come on, Sev, put that back. Let's get out of here before she catches-_"

There was a roar, followed by what sounded like an explosion of glass behind him. He dove out of the way just as a crackling, serpentine mass crashed towards him. Something stung his ankle as it knocked him off his feet, and he blindly fired the gun in the direction of the creature. In that split second, the beam of light from the torch allowed him to catch a brief glimpse of a cluster of half-dead leaves, and of splintered wood.

He dodged its next attack, freeing himself from one of the smaller, off-shooting branches. An image of the Whomping Willow sprung to mind, but he had a feeling that had nothing to do with this. As if on cue, he saw in his mind's eye a vivid flash of another splintered branch, and of Lily's disapproving glare_. _Petunia's startled tears sounded in the distance. _"Did you make that happen?" Lily had demanded. "You did! You hurt her!" _

Snape swore under his breath as he careened back into the hall. Bullets did nothing to stop the hulking trunk, and the branches were too quick for him to cut with his axe. He did not bother to test the doors on either side of the hall; rather, he ran straight to the end where a sign announced the presence of the stairwell. Perhaps, he thought, he could lose the creature at one of the higher levels.

It was only then that he thought that the sentient foliage would surely be able to penetrate any opening in the apartments, following him up every floor and barring any means of escape. He assumed the town was designed to prevent anything as merciful as "escape".

He nonetheless darted into the stairwell and slammed the door behind him, setting all his weight against it as the tree slammed against the other side. The doorframe rattled with each new assault, and each new surge of power forced him back a little more.

It was only then that he realized that he still had the letter clutched in his hand, the ink smearing slightly against his sweaty fingers.

In one quick, fluid motion, he bent down and shoved the letter back under the door, before moving back to lean against it. The constant ramming did not stop, leaving Snape a little more desperate. Small sprouts had overtaken the door's perimeter and were beginning to lash out at him.

"Take it back," he growled, straining against the rusted metal. One of the newborn branches whipped him in the eye, earning itself a cry of pain and frustration. "Take it back, please! Please…"

He heard the words of the letter sound again in his mind, as though the tree had absorbed it and was wailing it aloud. Each word was laced with the deepest rage and humiliation, with feeling of unworthiness and inferiority… Snape knew these feelings well, and it was with great horror that he realized that these were Petunia's feelings upon receiving the letter.

"I gave it back to you!" he yelled desperately, trying to shake his arm free of the vine that had enveloped it. "I… I'm _sorry_!"

The wild thrashing from the other side of the door ceased instantly. Snape didn't dare move.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his eyes going to the vines that had wrapped around his limbs. They had loosened only slightly. "I… I shouldn't have taken it from you. Please… Take it back."

With painful slowness, the branches began to withdraw themselves, and a gargantuan snapping sound from the other side of the door suggested the tree's retreat. In another moment, when the air had again fallen to silence, Snape picked himself up and quickly ascended to the next floor, pausing only on the next landing to catch his breath.

The stairwell door opened to the second floor in which a series of mirrors hung between the doors. He entered cautiously, raising his gun again. There was a reason they were there, he knew it. He took each step cautiously, looking around him each time he moved forward. And yet, he felt a sense of dread growing in the air every time he turned his back for a moment too long. He was certain that there was some kind of shadow following him, darting in and out of the mirrors, and about half way his heart leapt into his throat as he saw the outline of a man with a gun in his hand. Snape kept walking steadily, looking around him as much as he could. But the further he went, the more visible the shadow became. Soon he found himself walking a bit faster than was comfortable.

Perhaps he would not look at it at all, he thought, and he sped up his gait, almost jogging. He could feel that same pressure building, more and more until he could almost hear it in his ears... And then it went silent, hitting a plateau. There was a pause, and then a shot rang out, shattering the mirror closest to him. He ran the rest of the way, dodging the bullets that seemed to come from every direction.

He flew through the next door, sprinting through the hallway, but he could feel the shadow not far behind him. A few paces ahead of him, a low alcove carved into the wall came into his view, and he ducked into it and held his breath. He could see the figure sweep by him, turning as though confused. Several more shots were fired in what seemed to be frustration, shattering glass and splintering wood. Then it continued on, and after a minute or so it was gone.

Snape remained crouched where he was, suddenly feeling very secure. His father had always tormented him, had always caused the tension that had consumed his childhood. It was as though he could never turn his back for too long in that home, and he seemed to wait endlessly on eggshells for the moments when Tobias would snap. But with his mother... Eileen had always taken that fear away. It was only a small part of him that resented her for not leaving, though the notion was not often even acknowledged. He cared for her too much.

Before he had known Lily, Eileen had offered him the only warmth, the only love he had ever known, and these feelings surrounded him now, filling him with a feeling of strength and purpose. In fact, the feeling was so strong that for a moment he thought that she might actually be there, and that her ghostly arms might have reached into this nightmarish world to comfort him.

"Mother?" he whispered. He crawled out of the alcove and stood, looking up and down the hall. "Mum?"

Something brushed his back before it thudded to the floor behind him, and he let out a yell of surprise as he startled. But when he turned around and aimed his gun downward, the only thing that came out of his mouth was a hysterical moan.

_Tobias Snape had killed his wife and then turned the gun on himself, all while his son looked on._

Eileen lay in a mangled, bloody pile, her eyes dead and glassy as they looked up at him. Snape suddenly couldn't breathe; it was as if his lungs had seized up and his muscles had frozen. He trembled in his agony, and his grip on the gun tightened as he heard footsteps behind him. With the threat of tears burning in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to move until the figure was right behind him, breathing down his neck and smelling of beer as his father used to.

With a scream of rage he turned and smashed the gun across the figure's head, relishing the spurt of blood that covered his hands. It fell to the ground and Snape pounced down onto it, not seeing its face but just bashing it again and again with the butt of the gun until the flesh beneath him was nothing but a bloody pulp. Then he leaned back and fired a bullet into the soup, and then another and another as tears ran down his cheeks.

He stopped only when the sound of music caught his attention. His vision cleared as he wiped at his eyes, only irritating them with his blood-soaked sleeve until he thought to use the white cloth around his wrist. But then he realized that there was nothing beneath him, and likewise when he stood and turned, there was nothing where his mother had fallen. And yet, as he looked down at his hands, he saw that the blood was still there.

Then, as the melody began to repeat, Snape recognized it. It was not the tune in the music box, but another song; the one that Eileen had sung to him when he was very small, before he knew anything about magic, or about why his father hated him so.

It seemed to be coming from the next door down, and so he followed it passively, almost as though in a trance. The melody lulled him, calming the searing rage that had so thoroughly blinded him before. For the time being, it seemed as though seeing his mother, just feeling her comforting presence once more, was even more important to him than seeing Lily. He moved to touch the white cloth again so as to remind him what his ultimate goal here was, but he stopped himself.

"Mum?"

He opened the door behind which the music was playing, and it came to a slow stop as he entered. A piano stood in the corner of a bookcase-lined room, and after a moment, Snape remembered that- despite the now customary additions of blood, rust and rot- it resembled quite perfectly what used to be Mr. Evans' study. It was here that he had taught both of his daughters, and his unofficial son, how to play the instrument, as he had been quite the musician in his day. Though now Snape couldn't say he remembered much, he supposed he could still play a few simple songs.

There was blood spattered across the yellowing keys, but he also noticed that along the lines of the sheet music displayed, there was another riddle waiting for him.

"_I stayed in the light, never crossing into darkness,_

_But I was rewarded with blackened eternity._

_I deserved to soar, to use the wings I was born with,_

_But he ripped out all of my feathers._

_So is my soul."_

He rubbed his temple pointedly; his brain was too tired for riddles, and he hadn't sat down at a piano for at least twenty years, fifteen at best. Worst of all was that it was obvious to him that it was from the point of view of his mother. She had been a good woman, and was rewarded by being murdered. She longed to use the magic she was born with, but Tobias had taken all of her power away. He shook his head as though to clear it. He would have to try and take it one part at a time. '_I stayed in the light_' must have meant that there were no black keys in the solution, he thought. But that was the only thing that came to him. But the question itself seemed to be in the last line, and so he pondered it for a moment.

He wondered how a question could be answered on the piano, then concluded that it must be through the letters corresponding with the notes. '_So is my soul_'. A hundred different words for 'lost', 'broken', or 'dead' meandered through his mind, but all of them required some letter not in the scale. Then the bird analogy occurred to him again, and he acquired the word 'caged'.

His fingers went to the high scale, assuming that the hypothetical bird was flying, and he tapped at the appropriate keys, hoping that his knowledge of at least a simple scale was still accurate. There was a pause, and then a deep scraping sound came from one of the bookcases as it slid aside. He approached it as cautiously as ever, and almost on cue a scream rang out.

Though it was certainly feminine in nature, he would have been stupid to have immediately concluded that it was Lily. But he nonetheless darted behind the bookcase and through the tight, putrid-smelling hall. He soon came upon a door from which the crying had some from, and he entered immediately.

It was as if the world had changed, forcing him into a reality that was not his.

_He stood in an unfamiliar house, looking down at the bodies of a man and a woman, both lying in a growing puddle of blood. There were several young men around as well, and one of them grabbed another by the shirt and shook him._

"_Snap out of it, man; where do they keep the money!"_

_The second young man opened his mouth dumbly, staring down at the bodies. "They were my parents..."_

"_And you hated them anyway, now where's the money! Erik, you stupid bastard, the cops could show up any minute!"_

"_Under the mattress in the bedroom," he murmured, and he watched the other man hurry to where the door must have been. Already several others were emerging, clutching handfuls of jewelry._

The vision lurched, giving him a view into the room as it stood in reality; the young man had grabbed the dress front of a little girl, whose cries were identical to those he had heard when he had first entered. In that moment Snape understood that he was not the only one whose nightmares were created by the town. He had stepped into someone else's world for a moment, a nightmare that he had no place in. But the vision snapped into him again after only a split second.

_Erik suddenly looked up as though he had heard something, and he caught sight of a young girl standing wide-eyed on the stairs. His mouth dropped open in shock, and for a moment his eyes seemed to beg her to return upstairs. But she didn't understand._

"_OI!" One of the other men had pushed him aside. "I thought you said your sister was out!"_

"_I... I didn't think... Just let her..."_

"_Just let her WHAT? She's going to tell the goddamn cops if you don't shut her up so get up there and DO something!" And with that, the other man shoved a gun into Erik's hand._

The vision pulled back one last time, and he instantly took in the scene before him; it had changed since the last glimpse he had caught of it. Instead of the young man grabbing the girl, it was a grotesque, rotting creature, which shook her in its spindly arms as she sobbed in desperation. "Stop it," she whimpered. "I saw what you did!"

Snape raised the gun and fired at the thing, causing it to drop the girl. She hit the ground with a scream. But then, as the monster turned, he saw that it had his father's face, and within seconds it took his form completely.

There were a few moments that seemed to freeze as they faced each other, both of their faces twisted in hatred. Very slowly, Snape stowed the gun in his pocket and pulled the axe out of his belt.

"You killed my mother," was the first thing he hissed. "You murdered her in cold blood."

Tobais laughed- for the creature was no longer "Erik"- and suddenly the room took on the familiar smell of vodka and cigarettes, on top of the existing scent of blood. The room changed as well, forming the burnt remains of the old living room on Spinner's End. Tobias seemed on the whole unflustered. "What good was she anyway?" he slurred. "She was a monster." His grin widened. "Like you. You disgusting little rat."

"My mother was a good woman. She put up with a monster like _you_ to protect me!"

"And what good did that do?" He let out a chuckle, and seemed to pull a gun out of thin air. Snape recognized it anywhere. "You let her die."

"I couldn't do _anything_," he snarled, his temper flaring. "You killed her and then like a coward you killed yourself!"

This time his laughter came out as a full-fledged guffaw. "I killed myself! Is that how you remember it?"

"I saw it."

"You _saw_ it. Think again, boy."

_Severus was a teenager, almost fully-grown. His face was twisted in rage as he roared, "If I hear you talk to her like that one more time, I'll unleash the most vicious Dark magic I know and WATCH it drag you down to Hell where you belong."_

_At the very mention of magic, Tobias ripped out his gun, pulling it from somewhere in his coat pocket. "But can your little voodoo tricks stop a bullet? Can your hocus-pocus stop death?"_

"_Enough of this," sobbed Eileen. "Everyone just calm down."_

"_That's all we've ever done! We've only ever sat here and calmed down and I can't TAKE it anymore! I WON'T TAKE IT!"_

"_DON'T." The safety clicked as the larger man's finger nudged it backward, and he aimed the barrel at his son. "Don't you ever challenge my power. This is my house. And that," he pointed at Eileen, "is my wife. And I will speak to her and do to her whatever I please. And no sniveling piece of filth is going to tell me otherwise, no matter what kind of evil you can conjure!" _

_There was silence, and then Tobias chuckled._

"_Our problems all started when you went to that school. Or maybe they started when you met that little redheaded whore and her stuck-up parents."_

_In an unmatched, white hot fury, Severus ripped out his wand and pointed it at his father, his mouth just barely beginning to form a curse. But before he even had time to bring his wand up the whole way, Tobias cocked the gun and fired._

_Severus felt nothing, but he fell to the floor. It took him a moment to realize that his mother was sprawled on top of him, her eyes wide with pain. He hadn't even heard her scream. He rolled her off of him, his hand going to the bleeding bullet hole over her heart, and he watched as her mouth moved to form her last words... But she was gone already. _

_There was a moment of silence as he looked down at her in disbelief. "Mum?" He looked down at his shirt, where her blood sprinkled the thick white fabric. "Mummy!"_

With a scream, he lunged at the image of his father with the axe raised wildly above his head. Tobias was too fast, faster than he had even been in life, and ducked almost easily. He fired the gun, missing Snape, and the second bullet did the same, deflecting not far from where the girl had huddled in the corner. She screamed, putting her hands over her ears.

"Erik, stop it!" she sobbed, and it became apparent to Snape that she was seeing something very different than he was. But he could not be distracted by that for more than a moment.

He swung again and again, and as he faltered momentarily in his exhaustion, one of the gunshots paired itself with a pain in his shoulder, as though someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. Suddenly he could only use one arm, leaving his only bits of strength to come from rage and desperation.

But then, Snape caught Tobias upside the chin with the flat of the axe head, and he kicked him to the floor. In one fluid movement, his knee was pressed against the older man's throat, and the gun was knocked out of his hand. Snape took out his own gun from his pocket, and held it to Tobias' forehead. He was breathing heavily, but he did not dare move even to wipe the sweat that was dripping from his brow.

_Severus' eyes widened as he had the gun in his hand. His father was suddenly at his mercy, weakened after hitting his head on the coffee table as he fell. The thing he had feared most intensely in his life- or perhaps second only to Lily's rejection- was now resting in his hand. He could feel the trigger under his finger, then both of them as he steadied his shaking arm with the other one._

"Can you do it, boy?"

"_But you killed her..." Tears of rage and pain were flowing freely down his cheeks. "You killed... You killed my mother! You... YOU SON OF A BITCH BASTARD!"_

A shot rang out, piercing through the memory.

Tobias' eyes went blank, and a red stain flowered from his forehead. Snape stumbled backward, shaking, and watched as the body quivered for a moment before bursting into flame and dissolving into ashes. He stood frozen, staring down at the now-empty floor, and then winced as his shoulder moved the wrong way, causing another gush of blood to seep across the fabric of his shirt. He knelt again and retrieved two of the healing discs, before suddenly allowing the still-whimpering child to register in his mind.

"Are you alright?" he asked, grinding his teeth. He was already starting to pull the bullet out with a strand of glowing blue magic.

For the first time the girl looked up, and he met her eyes. They were familiar; he had seen the same frightened look in his own eyes every time he looked into the mirror as a small child. "You..." Snape let out a soft yell as the bullet came free, and he quickly moved to heal the flesh. "You killed Erik..."

And suddenly she broke out sobbing, leaving Snape caught with a muscle half-formed, and he fumbled for a moment as the spell finished. "Just..." He grumbled as he put his wand away and went to where the girl had curled up. "Now wait just a minute."

There was a pause as he stared unsurely down at the girl, and after a moment he knelt down beside her. "Are you hurt?" he asked. "Are you bleeding?" She shook her head, still crying, and Snape looked around to see that a door had appeared to his right. "Fine. Let's get out of here." He stretched out his hand to her. "Come on. It's alright." But the girl was unable to move, too overcome by such traumatic events. "You can come with me..." Suddenly she lurched forward, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder.

"_It's going to be okay," Eileen whispered, rocking him gently. "Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I live, do you understand?" Severus continued to cry softly, trying to let the comfort of his mother's embrace soothe him. It was warm, gentle, full of tenderness and care... But most of all, it was full of love._

"_I won't let him hurt you."_

When he looked up, the room had transformed once again, containing nothing more than some cobwebs and a thick coating of dust. With some hesitance, he lifted the girl into his arms and made for the door, her arms still wrapped around his neck as though she might never let go.


	5. The Lost Child, The Lost Nurse

A quick A/N: Thanks for your reviews so far! They really do make me very happy, so if you're on the fence about leaving one, please do!

Also, this chapter introduces two OCs. They are meant as springboards for Snape's development, so don't get nervous that they're going to take over or anything. This is not a Snape/OC story. Thanks!

Chapter Four

Snape emerged into the fog and carried the girl down the narrow metal fire escape that ran down the height of the building. His wounded arm was still unbearably sore, and so he was grateful to put her down at the bottom. It was then he noticed that she was missing her left shoe, and he reached into his bag to pull it out.

"Is this yours?" he asked, holding it out to her.

She stared at it for a moment, taking it gently, and then examined it more carefully. "You got it dirty," she whispered to herself, scraping at the spot of blood that had leaked onto it. As she did this, Snape realized that aside from a bit of dust on her dress, the girl was completely clean, and had on her no trace of the filth that so thoroughly coated himself. She noticed this as well, and gave a tiny smile before taking the shoe and putting it back on.

"Thank you." It came out as a murmur, blending with the mist. There was a moment in which she rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes and looked up at Snape hesitantly, but then she reached out and took his hand. He flinched, but did not draw his hand away completely. "We should go," she said at last. Her face had brightened slightly, as though she trusted him implicitly.

They walked along in silence, until Snape found it somewhat necessary to speak. "How did you get here?" he asked as gently as he could. He was still unsure of how to address such a young child.

"I... Um, I walked. Well, I took a bus, and then I walked."

"And... Erik?"

"He's my brother. He..." It was as though she still had an instinct to protect the young man. "He did something very bad, and then he put me in the attic. But I don't know why."

Snape nodded, understanding. He had seen the look on the young man's face, and the way he had held the gun. It seemed obvious that he did not possess the brutality to kill his sister directly, and had instead locked her in the attic so that she could not testify as to what had occurred.

"I don't think your brother was a bad person." He couldn't help but think: Erik had just been a confused young man, caught up with the wrong people, and this was a concept he understood. "He didn't mean for that to happen."

"I know. But he still did it." There was another brief silence as Snape's expression fell. "My name is Charlotte. What's your name?"

"Prof-" He stopped himself. He no longer had the right to introduce himself as 'professor', and the notion saddened him slightly. "Just Snape."

The girl smiled. "That's a funny name. But okay, Mr. Snape. Thank you for helping me." He nodded, but then his brow furrowed in confusion when Charlotte became strangely contemplative. "I was hoping you would come, you know."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. I remember when Erik did that, I wanted a big person to help me. But no one ever came, and I had to get out myself. Then it started happening again back there and... You came. So thank you." Snape wasn't sure what to say, but the girl seemed satisfied even without a reply. She smiled, and adjusted her hand in his. "Why are you here?" she asked cheerfully.

"Well, I'm... I'm looking for someone," he said softly, not wishing to explain to such a small girl. "But I can't find her."

"Oh..." Charlotte seemed as though she wanted to say something more, but she stopped and smoothed her dress with her free hand.

They came to the main street, and suddenly Snape felt excruciatingly aimless. He had no clues, no leads, and he knew that it would mean trouble if a monster attacked him while the girl was in his company. And yet, Charlotte seemed to know where she was going, and she directed them to the left.

"How is it that you haven't been hurt?" he asked warily, unsure of how to breach the topic. Charlotte merely gave him a curious look. "The monsters?"

"There are _monsters_?" she gasped, suddenly drawing closer to him. "I've just seen Erik and you, but... They're not going to hurt us, are they!"

"No, no, no..." He tried to backpedal. Again it became apparent that this girl was experiencing the town very differently than he was. And in a way- taking into consideration that a little girl might have a great deal fewer inner demons than someone like himself- this made sense."I was just wondering if you had seen any. I'm sure there aren't any monsters at all."

"Then it was silly to ask," she said, staring worriedly down at her feet. "You scared me."

"Apologies."

But he was quickly forgiven. "I saw you had a magic wand," she said, giving a little smile. Snape's eyes widened; he hadn't thought that maybe this was a Muggle girl.

"I... Well, it's a secret." He was doing his best to think on his feet, but his mind was already too tired.

"That's okay," she chirped. "It was a secret for Mummy and Daddy too." Snape breathed a sigh of relief. "But I mean, they could tell me. But they couldn't tell Erik. He couldn't do magic things like they could." The story suddenly made more sense to him now, but he was distracted by the way she looked up at him pridefully. "I made a flower grow once."

His mind flashed back to the image of Lily sitting in the playground, enchanted by a flower that opened and closed its petals on her command. But he pushed it from his mind. "That's a very nice piece of magic. Perhaps you'll go to school to learn more?"

She nodded vigorously. "I want to go to a school called Hogwarts. Have you heard of it?"

There was a moment's pause as he thought of how to answer, but then he allowed a small, wistful smile to pull at his lips. "I used to teach there," he said softly.

"_Really_?" It was as though he had told her that he was the Minister of Magic. A brilliant smile had exploded over her face, and she acquired an extra bounce in her step. "What did you teach?"

"Potions," he said automatically. "But... The war filed things up a bit. I don't teach anymore." He paused, thinking about Midwich and the nightmare he had found there. "And to be honest, I wasn't very good at it."

"Oh, I'm sure you were okay," she said cheerfully. "Did you go there when you were little?" Snape nodded. "What House were you in? Mummy was in Ravenclaw, and Daddy was in Slytherin."

"I was in Slytherin as well."

She giggled again. "Daddy said that people think Slytherins are bad, but that there are a lot of good ones too. I think you're one of the good ones, like Daddy. Even if you're dirty and you smell bad."

"I..." He stared down at his clothes, barely noticing the filth and bloodstains. Something had occurred to Snape then. He was about to tell the girl that he was actually a very nasty old man who hated children, and that she should leave him to his business because that was what all other people did. And yet, this newer concept was almost incomprehensible to him. When presented with someone who did not know his reputation, their first instinct was to treat him with kindness. Granted, this was just a little girl who didn't know any better. But could his actions alone, sans any bias or preconceptions, truly garner this kind of benevolence and warmth? Could it be possible for someone to treat him so casually- as though he were just a man? Was it really so simple? The idea, however foreign, made him smile.

"It's very kind of you to say that," he said, before making a short pause. "That is, about being a good person. It's not my fault that I'm so dirty." This made the girl laugh, and the sense of wellbeing spurred him into continuing a conversation. "By the way, you haven't seen a small dog around here anywhere, have you?"

"You have a _puppy_ too!" At this point it was as if he had told her that he was Merlin himself, and she actually jumped up and down a few times. "I _love_ puppies!"

"Well... In that case, I would be happy to give him to you if I find him again."

"Oh!" She giggled again, and Snape wasn't sure if he had ever seen a child so happy. "I bet he's cute! Is he cute?"

"I'm sure you would think so."

They had been walking for some time, though to where exactly he wasn't sure. He had just been following the girl's lead. Although, perhaps this was for the best. While in her presence, he hadn't encountered a single monster, and the fog seemed thinner and less ominous. But then, as they passed what seemed to be a large hotel, a sound caught his ear. The lightheartedness that had recently enveloped him so thoroughly dispersed quickly, leaving him cold.

"That phone is ringing," said Charlotte, pointing one of the nearby pay phones. She began to draw away from him. "Should I go pick it up?"

"No!" He stopped, and reached out his hand to her again. "Don't let go of me."

She nodded, and they approached the phone together. Snape took a moment to breathe, and then picked up the receiver.

"...Hello?"

"Hello, Severus."

It was a man's voice, and it struck him familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "Who is this?"

There was a pause. "I'm insulted, Severus," the voice said, sounding genuinely hurt. "It has indeed been many years, but I thought you might have remembered nonetheless."

Another pause, this time from his end. Then, "Regulus?"

"My sincerest apologies for having to speak to you in this way. It is all a role to be played in this terrible place you've come upon. It is what must occur, I'm afraid."

"What's...?" His eyes widened. "Regulus, what's going on here exactly? You're the only one I can ask; it doesn't sound like this town has turned you into anything... Twisted. Everyone else: Lily's parents, my father, Lupin, your brother... The town has turned them into monsters."

Charlotte had just started pulling on his shirt sleeve when Regulus' voice came through, "The town had no need to turn me into a monster."

"Mr. Snape!"

The receiver made a clunk as it fell, and Snape spun around to see that the hotel across the street had already begun to rot and ooze blood, and the sky above it had turned a hellish red. The executioner monster stood watching from the rooftop, and below him the nightmare world appeared to advance towards them slowly. Then, with a roar, a giant-sized inferius monster crawled out of a seemingly bottomless puddle of blood that had formed in the decaying half of the street, and a number of the smaller ones soon followed it. Suddenly the meaning of Regulus' words dawned on him, and he froze.

Snape swiftly bent down and took Charlotte into his arms, shielding her eyes from the scene. It was not a reflexive movement, but she had started to cry again. "It's just a bad dream," he said quickly. "Just stand here and close your eyes, and it will go away. But if I say to run, I want you to do so, is that clear?" She nodded feebly, and so Snape let go and ran towards the onslaught monsters, drawing his gun.

He fired as many shots as he could, taking down at least three of the smaller inferi. But he was still inexperienced with the weapon, and his accuracy was poor at best. He managed to reload while on the move, and soon the last two had fallen. There didn't seem to be any more.

Snape faced Regulus, looking into a face that only slightly resembled the handsome man he had once known. But even as he raised his gun, he couldn't bring himself to shoot. Regulus amended this problem by reaching out from his hole and lashing out with long, spindly arms, causing Snape to dodge out of the way. He fired off two more shots, but they both widely missed their target.

There was something odd about the whole battle. He could not help but feel as though he was not trying his hardest, and in a way, it seemed as though Regulus was holding back as well. Snape had known the young man to always have a certain crispness about his movements, a certain regality that no doubt came from being raised in such a household as his. But now he carried none of that, despite the fact that he had heard his voice over the phone, as naturally decorous as it had ever been.

Soon, Snape had a clear shot and decided that he would have to end this. He was exhausted, completely spent with no more left to give. His legs wobbled unsteadily and the gun felt like a lead weight in his hand. He pulled the trigger.

He was out of ammunition.

Regulus swung at him again, his massive arms spanning several meters, and finally it knocked him off his feet. He landed hard on his side, groaning as his sore shoulder hit the metal grating, and almost immediately one of Regulus' huge hands had trapped him. Unable to move his arms even to pull out the axe, Snape looked back to Charlotte, only to see that she was already gone. He hoped that she had escaped safely.

Suddenly more shots rang out, and Regulus was thrown backwards, blood spurting from three holes in his chest. Another shot, and another spray of blood. He fell forward, landing on his hands to support him, but his arms gave out and he fell flat. There was the sound of a gun being reloaded.

"Wait!" There was a pause before Snape began to carefully approach the being, somehow feeling pity for the way that his breathing had become so labored. He came into reach, and when Regulus made no move to attack him, he knelt by his head. "Regulus?"

"I... I'm here." There was a pause as he gasped for breath. Even with his voice raspy with strain, it still maintained the old qualities Snape remembered: the way it remained airy even in such situations, his delicate wording, the strange antiquity of his Northern accent. "It was not my intention to harm you, Severus."

"I know."

"I meant..." He turned his head, resting on one cheek so that he could meet his eyes. Suddenly his face seemed to look more like him, more human. "When I was alive. When I distanced myself, when I confined myself to my chambers and would not stand your company there... Did you think I...?"

"I thought you hated me. I thought you didn't wish to be my friend anymore, for reasons of blood purity, or..."

"But you knew me better than that."

"Which confused me all the more. But... When I caught word of the note that had been left in the fake horcrux that Potter found... It wasn't until then that I understood. You were studying, weren't you? Planning? But I don't understand why you couldn't have told me."

"You would have wanted to assist me and..." He coughed violently. "I didn't want you to blame yourself." Snape had opened his mouth so as to question this, but Regulus shook his head slightly. "No. You do not need details as to how I did it. But I wanted to give my life to help end the Dark Lord... I wanted to fix the wrongs of my family. I wanted to help you."

"Me?"

"Severus, promise me that you won't die in this hellhole."

"I'm trying not to." There was a shuffling sound behind him, and he moved aside to let Regulus pull his arm towards them. He opened his massive hand, and something sparkled within it. Snape moved to take it.

"I'm supposed to give you this... I'm under the impression that it was Lily's heirloom locket?" Snape nodded as he stared down at it, his eyes wide as though he couldn't quite take all of this. "All I ask in return is that you forgive me."

"I never blamed you. In fact I... That is, when I learned of what you had done... I envied your courage. It was just like when we were in school. You were like my brother, and yet I envied everything you had that I did not. Poise, good looks, leadership, eloquence, charisma..."

"But we both came to the same social conclusion. We both chose poorly. _However_," Snape had made to interrupt, "however you underestimate your own courage. You were ready to give your life for Lily, as surely as I gave my life for you. But let us speak no more of it. That is done now." He gave a heavy sigh, the sound low and raspy. "I always admired you, Severus, even when you chose poorly. You took in me as the younger brother I so dearly wished to be, not because of my money or my blood, but..."

"Because I valued you as a person."

"Yes..." Regulus had smiled for a moment, but then he groaned and shifted his body.

"Are you in pain?" Snape asked, though it seemed like a foolish question. His face was screwed up in agony as he struggled to breathe.

"May I... May I ask one more thing of you?"

"Anything."

"This body... It is too big, and will bleed out slowly."

Snape furrowed his brow, his mouth pressed into a tight line. There was genuine sympathy in his eyes, as though he knew the feeling of wanting to be put out of his misery. "Do you need me to...?"

"Please..."

There was an urgency with which he nodded, and he rummaged frantically around in his bag. There was no more ammunition. His hands shook and he met Regulus' eyes, and the look they exchanged explained everything.

But then a figure appeared beside Snape, and he looked up to see a somewhat familiar woman hand him another gun. He took it, and saw that it had a fully loaded chamber.

"Will... Will I hurt you?" His voice trembled as he spoke, and he seemed hesitant to raise the gun.

"I don't expect so. I'm done with that now." Regulus closed his eyes as the barrel came to his temple. "It's alright, Severus. It's going to be alright."

"Will it?"

Regulus answered by pulling his hand closer, so that one of the fingers brushed Snape's knee. "It will be alright," he repeated. "I have faith in you."

The gun wavered. "You were the only one I ever trusted completely, you know."

"And vice versa. Now let go of me, Severus. It's time to let go."

Snape set his other hand on the finger that Regulus had left near him, and then winced as he pulled the trigger. The gunshot seemed louder than normal. Around him the edges of the nightmare world began to blur, and it raced backwards towards where Regulus lay, retreating far faster than it came. Soon Regulus sank back into the pool of blood, which then disappeared itself, leaving nothing more than the fog.

After a moment, Snape realized that silent tears had been welling up in his eyes, and he slowly wiped them away. Then he looked up at the woman who stood above him, squinting almost as though to make out her face. She reached down a hand and helped him up.

"I know you," he murmured, his thoughts still clouded.

"From St. Mungo's...?"

He had forgotten. It had been difficult to place her without her nursing attire, and it had been difficult to associate her grimy, dirt-streaked face with the white sterility of the hospital. She slipped a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear and smoothed her skirt, as though uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He could almost see why she was a bit insulted; she had been the nurse assigned primarily to him, and he had seen her at least twice a day in the past four months since the Battle.

"Ms. Branston. Apologies." He handed the gun back to her, and then he let out a small gasp as he remembered. "You haven't seen...?"

But he answered his own question as he saw Charlotte walking towards them, the dog beside her. Even from this distance he could see that her face was ashen from the experience they had just had, but there was a small smile on her face nonetheless.

"I found your puppy, Mr. Snape," she called to him.

"He's yours now," he replied, and this made the girl's smile widen, and a bit of color return to her cheeks.

The nurse gestured to the north. "Alright then, let's get out of here. I've had enough of this place."

"I can't leave yet." Snape eyes were blank, the same as they had been in the hospital when he had tried to avoid talking about Lily or the war. But then, to his surprise, Charlotte chimed in as well.

"I can't leave either," she chirped, and she grasped the edge of Snape's shirt for a moment. "'Cause now I'm looking for someone too." She smiled, but her expression faltered for a moment as she made a small sound of interest. "Oh, I forgot."

She put a hand in her pocket and felt around for something, her face screwing up in concentration. Then she smiled again as she pulled something out. "You know how the monster man gave you something? I was supposed to give something to you earlier but... I had to figure out if you wanted it or not." Snape reached out his hand, and Charlotte let a small golden ring fall into it. Or at least, it looked like gold. He knew that it was actually just cheap plastic with a rhinestone emerald, as he remembered buying it for Lily with ten pence he had found in the street. He couldn't have been much older than ten at the time.

"Who gave this to you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Um... I didn't actually see her. But it was like..." She tapped at her temple. "It was like she was in my head. But she was very pretty. Oh, and she told me that you should meet her at the hospital, so I guess she's the one you're looking for, right?"

"It sounds like she is. And thank you very much for helping me."

The puppy barked impatiently, making the girl pull away. "Okay, well, I'm going to go now."

The nurse looked incredulously at Snape, who had merely nodded, and she reached to pull the girl back. "Are you _out of your mind_!" she hissed at Snape. "You're going to let a girl her age walk around here _alone_? She doesn't stand a chance!"

"Ms. Branston," he said tersely, "I am under the impression that the town is relatively safe for the girl as long as she is alone. Everything that has threatened her during her time here has appeared because of my presence, and that being the case, I believe that separating may in fact be the best course of action. I assure you, there is none other wishing for her safety more than myself."

Charlotte looked confused. "...What?"

"Good luck to you," he said gently, and the girl nodded, waving as she padded away with the puppy at her side.

"Oh and something else!" she called back when she was a little ways away. "Can I name your puppy Harry?"

"Ah..." Snape couldn't help but allow his mouth to fall open. "Could you... Not?"

"Okay, Mr. Snape! I'll call him Oscar." And with that she continued on and out of sight, the last sound coming through the mist as only a distant, 'Come on, Oscar!'

Snape sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Nurse Branston's eyes. "I'd best be on my way," he said quietly, and he turned to go.

"_You're_ not going alone." Her words were forceful, reminding him painfully of his first conscious days in the hospital when he had been admittedly stubborn. But it was only because he didn't wish to be there. "And I can't believe you were stupid enough to come here so soon after being released; you can't just hop out of bed and... And kill goddamned monsters!"

"What do you _suggest_ I'd have done? 'Excuse me, manifestation of my inner demon. I've only just come out of the hospital and I'm not feeling quite up to killing you. Could you move out of the way, please?' Or I could have _let_ one of them kill me, but that would have defeated the purpose of me trying to preserve my physical wellbeing."

"You know, you could _thank_ me and stop being a git for five minutes."

"Hold habits die hard."

"Apparently they do."

"I've already had _enough_ of you," he said icily. "I am no longer your patient. You do _not_ control me, and you hold _no_ sway over my actions; is that clear? So I suggest you leave me to do what I've come here to accomplish; you will be of no help to me."

"I just saved your life!"

"And I could have handled it on my own!"

"So let me try and understand this. A girl gives you a plastic ring and you treat her like a princess; I save your sorry ass and then you tell me that I'm useless? I don't understand your _logic_, Mr. Snape!"

"I treated her decently because she has no concept of what's going on here and I could not bear to saddle yet another child with my displaced anger." He paused only for a moment. The things he had seen in the school were still fresh in his mind, almost as fresh as the visions he had seen of himself as that small, whimpering child, looking for an adult to cling to. He had seen too much of himself in the girl.

He began to walk away, and he had covered almost half a block before he heard the nurse call out for him to wait. His mind flickered between stopping and running ahead, but while he had been thinking she had already caught up to him.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you," she said, just a little out of breath. Her look became one of uneasiness. "I'm just tired. If you want... My name is Adelle. You're right; we're not in the hospital anymore." Snape merely nodded and continued walking. "Can I call you Severus?" She was trying to keep up with him.

"I can't stop you."

"Look." She put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to face her, and he shied away almost instinctively. There was a moment of pause as she looked down at her hand, as though to confirm that it was not diseased. When she spoke again, her intent was to be as gentle as possible. "Let's start over, alright? Let's start fresh."

"There _are_ no fresh starts."

"Will you give me a chance!" Her voice had taken on a tone of pure frustration, and her mouth had tightened into an angry little line. "Just... Give me a second chance."

Their eyes met, and for a moment her words rang in Snape's mind. A second chance was what he was remaining here to find, and something about the desperation in her voice struck him as familiar. It was silent, and then a soft, "Alright."

Adelle opened the purse hanging on her shoulder and took out a box of bullets to hand to him. "I saw you were out of ammo."

"Thank you," he said stiffly, accepting the box. "And thank you for helping me back there."After a short time in which he decided that being at least somewhat pleasant to this woman seemed like the most diplomatic thing to do, he spoke again. "So tell me how you came to be here. Surely you didn't follow me?"

"Oh no, I..." She paused, as though disturbed by something. "I came here on my own. That is..." She looked at him hesitantly. "You won't think I'm insane, will you?"

"After what I've seen in this town? I expect I'm even more hopelessly insane than you are. And if I remember correctly, I believe _you're_ the one who continued to call the hospital psychiatrist on _me_."

Adelle's fingers went to fiddle anxiously with her purse before she continued. "I had a dream about two weeks after the Battle. Then it began to appear regularly, only each time I would forget. When you were leaving your room at the hospital, I remember hearing you whisper the name of this town. Silent Hill. And then suddenly the dreams came back, and I remembered that they had told me to come to this place. So I put my affairs in order and Apparated here as soon as I could."

"You could Apparate?"

"Couldn't you?" There was an awkward silence before she spoke again. "Well, I suppose we're both stuck here now. The hospital; that's where we're supposed to go to? Doesn't that sound a little ominous?"

"I've seen enormous Death Eater masks and mutated werewolves and demonic dogs and the shadowy remnants of my own father. I don't suppose anything could disturb me further, though I'll refrain from saying so for the sake of tempting fate." He paused, thinking. "What do _your_ problems entail?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said that the town had called you, and that you had seen monsters. Surely there is some personal dilemma you are sparring with?"

"Just the usual," she murmured. "I saw a lot of people die over the course of the war, as did many others. I suppose I only answered the town's call because..." She paused and took her eyes from him completely. "Well, I suppose I was a little worried about you."

"Oh really?"

"Don't sound so smug!" Snape had raised a derisive eyebrow, his mouth curling only into a hint of the cruel smile that had once been so prevalent in his mannerisms. Only now he was using it to cover his own discomfort. Adelle let out a sigh of annoyance. "I had a reason to be worried. Harry Potter can do all he wants to tell people what you fought for, but there are still many who would love to see you dead. From both sides."

"I was aware of this."

"And you weren't worried?"

Snape merely shook his head, and Adelle might have inquired further if a sound from behind them hadn't caught their attention. Three shuffling figures appeared in the distance, and Snape held up a hand. "These are after me. Don't let them get to close; their skin is hot enough to melt the pavement."

"Severus...?" Adelle looked up as two more figures appeared on the rooftops, but these seemed more agile than the ones on the ground. Then all five came into view. "I don't think those are here for you."

Though they were all draped in ragged hospital gowns, none appeared exactly the same. One had a gaping hole blasted into its gut, exposing the ribs and leaving some of the intestines to hang loose. Another was covered from head to toe in massive, grotesque boils, and the one next to it had all of its limbs broken into unnatural angles with its head turned the opposite way. The one on the left rooftop looked as though it had been partially eaten by something, and the one on the right seemed to be caught in a transformation between man and lizard.

Both of them had their guns out immediately, and Snape began loading his as fast as he could.

"The hospital isn't far," said Adelle in a hushed voice. "Just a couple of blocks. Can you make it that far?"

Snape shook his head anxiously, and fired three shots towards the approaching creatures. Only one found its mark, though Adelle's attempt downed two of the creatures.

For the next block, their strategy involved shooting as many monsters as they could, running away while they reloaded, and then turning and shooting again. This worked rather well for the time being, as soon all five of the monsters had fallen.

But just as they both smiled and were about to congratulate each other, ten more of the creatures appeared in the distant mist. Snape took a sharp inhalation of breath. "I think I can try and run now." And they tore off in the direction of the hospital.

Three more of the monsters appeared ahead of them on the road, and they were shot quickly as the two came upon them; panic seemed to increase their accuracy. But even as the creatures pursuing them were keeping a swift pace, the hospital roof was visible just around the corner. It was possible that they might make it.

But then a window from a nearby building exploded, and two more figures threw themselves into the street in front of them. To Snape's surprise, these were different. Each was draped in black and white, blood-speckled cloth, and hovered a few centimeters off the ground. But most noticeably, they appeared as life-sized puppets, hanging from thin, sourceless threads that seemed to cut into the flesh of their throats and outstretched arms.

"Those have _got_ to be yours," muttered Adelle. But anything else she said was drowned out by gunfire, as Snape tried desperately to hit one of them. They were too fast, and they floated gracefully out of the way. Then they were almost on top of the two, who were trying to land a shot. The first monster lunged at Snape, just barely giving him time to dodge, though one of its strings nicked his face and just barely broke the skin. He fired at it, missing again, but Adelle's bullet pierced the creature's heart and stopped it in its tracks. The second monster, which had raised a string to slice off her head, caught Snape's bullet in the arm, and it faltered backward.

The two ran on towards the hospital. The other monsters had caught up to them while they had been fighting the puppets, and now the entire horde was close behind. But Snape soon began to fall back. It was as though his lungs were on fire, and his legs moved only with pure adrenaline as he struggled to catch up with Adelle. She looked back and grabbed his hand, pulling him along to give him a little extra speed.

She let go only to run ahead of him up the steps and pull the door open, and as soon as he was within reach he flung himself inside. But just as the door was almost closed, he heard her cry out in pain before giving one last grunt to close the door. Each lock clicked as she turned it, and then she slumped to the floor.

It was silent for a few moments, save for their heavy breathing, and then he heard a feeble, "Help me..." A rusted knife had clattered to a stop a meter or so away from him, and he could see that it had trailed a line of blood from where Adelle lay. Her hand was pressed tightly against her side, though he could still see the blood trickling between her fingers; she had lost a lot of it judging by the blood-drenched state of her clothing. Snape hauled himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment, and went to kneel beside her.

"I don't want to die here," she whispered. Snape hushed her and reached for his wand and the last healing disc. "What are you doing?" But he hushed her a second time, and pried her hand away from the wound. His eyes widened slightly; it was worse than anything he had sustained during his time in the town. His wand flicked over it, and a blue light accumulated in the blood. Adelle's breathing had quickened again. "You... You can do magic!"

"The discs," he huffed, still out of breath. "Now be quiet." He finished the spell, but the skin had not reformed yet and it was still bleeding. He couldn't see what he was going to do; perhaps she _was_ going to die here.

Adelle reached over and tossed her purse towards him. "I have a few of those. I just didn't know what they did." Snape met her eyes briefly and took two more. It took him nearly ten minutes to heal the wound completely, but when he finished a strip of raw, new skin had been formed. He moved to brush away the dried bits of blood and then recoiled just centimeters from her flesh. He realized that he hadn't touched anything but her hand throughout the entire healing process, for reasons of either discomfort or some kind of fear... He supposed that was just one more thing to add to the list of things he was afraid of.

"Oh God," she breathed. "Thank you so much."

"Can you get up?"

She touched the new skin, breathing experimentally in and out, and after a moment she took hold of the doorframe and lifted herself onto her feet. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Good, because I can't."

But Snape was startled as she laughed and softly kicked his leg as she stepped over him. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor!"

"The intention was not to be funny," he said dryly, his head back against the wall and his eyes closed. Even just sitting there he could feel sleep surging and ebbing in a dizzying tide, and his muscles ached as they hadn't since perhaps the night of Dumbledore's death. But perhaps, he thought, not all of that pain had been physical.

"Severus!" Adelle was calling him from around the corner, and her voice was shrill with excitement; she was obviously very happy to be in one piece. "There's a little office here that looks safe and... And I found a stockpile of bullets and those discs! The door locks too, but I don't think any of the monsters are going to bother us anyway. Did you see that mark outside that none of them wanted to pass through? It doesn't surprise me that it's there, though; this town used to be home to the main faction of a huge cult. It's probably where the town gets its power, now that I think about it. But I saw in the Historical Center that they had all of these sacrificial rituals and archangels that look like monsters and something about birthing God to bring paradise... Severus?"

She noticed that he hadn't followed her, and was still sitting where she left him. When she approached, he heaved a breath and had to turn to the wall and lift himself onto his knees before rising completely. With a hand on the wall to support him, he moved with trembling steps into the office.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" He sighed and brushed her away. "I'm spent. I'm old, I'm tired, and I'm weak. I've faced a great many of my fears and grievances one after the other and yet I have nothing to show for it."

He went to the window, just a small square of light in the back of the office, and he found himself leaning heavily on the counter just to stand. Adelle came from behind him, but for some reason she could not bring himself to touch him. He emanated an aura that she didn't dare disturb. "Severus, when was the last time you slept? Have you eaten anything?"

"I've passed out a few times, so I suppose that can suffice for some kind of rest. As for the concept of food, I suppose I have not entertained it since I was last at the hospital."

"Severus... That must have been at least two days ago..."

"Is that so? I've come to believe that this place does not differentiate between night and day. It is ruled by light and darkness alone; it has nothing to do with mortal hours or anything measurable by a calendar. Time is unsubstantial here." Adelle had retreated backwards, silently looking for things that may be of help to them. Snape was beginning to scare her. But he continued, putting a weary hand to his head. "It's just one continuing length of existence," he whispered, "never-ending, like a nightmare that one cannot wake up from."

"Here; you must've spent too much energy with all that magic." She had found a blanket and put it around his shoulders, and she tried to lead him away from the square of light that seemed to torment him so. There was another blanket waiting on the floor where she had set it beside a solid-looking desk, and she helped him to sit. He did not respond to anything, and just closed his eyes as though he were in pain. "I'm going to let you sleep," she said gently, "but you need to eat first."

He nodded only slightly, and barely looked up when she produced a small plastic container of something. "It's not much, since I was in a bit of a rush, and I'm afraid I've already eaten some, but..." She held it out to him. "Have some please?"

With delicate fingers he reached over and took a small, wrinkled object from the container. "What is this?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet, more like a breath. But before Adelle could answer he had already taken a bite of it. "It's sweet."

"They're dried apricots. My mother loved them and I've kept them in my house ever since."

Snape took another piece of the dried fruit and then a few of the crackers next to them. Much as he begrudged her having to tell him, he also knew that he hadn't eaten for longer than was healthy. He had felt the pangs of hunger all the way back at the police station, but he had been dismissing them as pains from his fear. He knew he had to find a way to stay awake just a little longer. "Tell me about your home," he said in that same slow, muffled voice.

"My house? I..." She seemed a bit taken aback, and she took one of the apricots and munched on it as though to comfort herself. "It's small. It's... It's really nothing worth talking about." She seemed unwilling to continue, and she gave a small shrug. "I'm sorry I don't have any water or anything. I'm fairly thirsty myself if it makes you feel any better."

From the folds of his blanket, Snape reached into his bag and pulled out the half-full bottle of water, and passed it to her. "Just leave me a sip."

"Thank you."

It was quiet save for the sound of their chewing until Snape spoke again. "What more can you tell me?"

"Oh, I..." Again, it was as though she didn't wish to speak. "It's just a house. I'm sure we can talk about something else." She sighed and rested on Snape's shoulder; but only for a moment, as he had startled and lifted a hand to shoo her away. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I forgot that you don't like to be touched."

Snape shrugged and took a sip of the water that she had set down.

"It was one of the first things I learned about you, you know," she said slowly, unsurely. "In the hospital. You used to hate it when I changed your bandages. I remember that you didn't even want to take my arm to lean on when you were struggling to walk again..." She paused to think. "I think that's a sad way to live."

"I've been living that way for a long time. I learned to do without it. Now it discomforts me. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"But surely..." She gave a sigh and shook her head. "You were so sick in the hospital. You might have recovered more quickly if you had the will to. Only... All you ever wanted was to die. I had to keep you away from anything that you could harm yourself with during the first few weeks. And..."

Snape swallowed what he had been chewing and gave a long, slow blink. "And?" It was silent. "And what else, Ms. Branston?"

"And I used to hear you weep at night... When I came to check on you. I always came to check, to tuck you in or wake you from your nightmares... But almost every night I heard you weep, just barely loud enough for me to hear, as if you had been smothering yourself, willing yourself to be silent."

"How poetic." He pushed the remaining morsels back to her, gesturing for her to finish. "But these things are of no consequence to you, and yet you take notice of them. What is it that you aren't telling me?" It was silent for almost a full five minutes before Snape murmured, "I can't stay awake for much longer, and I do wish to know."

She prefaced with a breath of humorless laughter. "I'm not as young as I look, you know. I'm only five years younger than you. That being the case, I was attending Hogwarts when you were, specifically while you were in your fifth year." She paused to glance at Snape, who was staring intently at her despite the glazed look of exhaustion in his eyes. "I saw you one afternoon, outside with..." She seemed hesitant to even say her name. "With Lily Evans. I was just a first year, and I didn't think much of it then. But when I heard of your role in the war, I remembered something about that day."

"You said to her, 'I would do anything for you' and she laughed. You went on, speaking about climbing the tallest mountains and crossing plains of hot coals... And all that girl could do was laugh. But then she realized how serious you were when you turned to her with this crazy look in your eye, and you took her hand and stared into her face. And you said, 'I would die for you.' And I think that she was scared by that level of devotion, that kind of obsessive love. It may sound silly, but I've never forgotten those words; for I had never seen any human so obstinate about anything before, and I have not seen it since."

It was quiet only briefly as Snape struggled to remain conscious. "And so you pity me," he said, sounding bitter despite the exhaustion. He gave a sigh of disgust and hugged the blanket closer, as though to protect himself.

"I never said I pitied you," she replied. "What you did with your life was your decision. And yet..." There was a pause as she looked at him. "All I know is that back then, I understood that what happened to Dumbledore was not of your doing, and I know today that we're both stuck in this town with no one to rely on but each other. And God damn this place; I want us both to make it out alive."

"We'll see about that." It was quiet for a few moments.

"Severus, what do you mean?"

But he did not answer her directly, only murmured, "Well... Thank you... Anyway."

His head slowly fell forward as his eyes closed, and his breathing had become slow and steady. Adelle sighed quietly and arranged the blanket around him, pausing a moment before moving herself beneath it and leaning again on his shoulder. It was cold, she thought, and the company of anyone- even someone as disagreeable as Snape- seemed to soothe the anxiety and the pain she was in.

She knew exactly what he was going through.

...

Snape had felt himself falling into sleep, as though he had been teetering on the brink and could no longer hold on. But his plunge stopped for a time, allowing him to rest and regain his strength. This was the dreamless, revitalizing sleep that had eluded him so frequently during his years at Hogwarts, and he allowed it to fill him and soothe his aches and pains. It calmed his mind, allowing him to think clearly and rationally once more.

But then his plunge continued.

His eyes snapped open just a moment before he hit the floor. It was dark and silent, and he could feel rusty metal grating beneath his fingers. But then a light sprung to life, there was a piercing scream, and the flooring lurched beneath him.

He scrambled to his feet, looking wildly around. He was in what seemed to be a metal chain-link cage, which was moving steadily downward between fleshy, pulsing walls that beat as rhythmically as a human heart. The sound rang in his ears, interrupted by another scream, a moan, the screeching of metal.

It had been descending for almost a minute when it pitched to a squealing halt, bouncing Snape within it like a rag doll. He had been standing straight in its center for fear of what throbbed outside of it, but the lurch left him crumpled at the far end, grasping for his gun.

The grating opened, and Snape sat, horrorstruck, as the executioner monster plodded into view. Almost immediately, all of the sounds that had previously surrounded him ceased. He watched as it slowly came to a stop in front of the doors and reached again for the sword in its chest. The smell was unbearable as its skinny hands yanked at the hilt, slowly pulling it out, but Snape didn't dare move to cover his nose. He didn't dare move at all, even to breathe.

But then he couldn't help the way his eyes widened as the sword came free. It was the blade crafted by Godric Gryffindor himself, the one that Snape guarded carefully and eventually brought to Harry under the guise of his patronus. Only this version was massive- twice as big as he remembered- and the length of it was sullied by rust and gore, no different than everything else in this nightmare.

Snape's finger inched closer to the trigger, and he waited with his heart in his throat for the creature to move. Seconds passed; minutes. Finally it seemed to grow bored, or at least be satisfied with whatever it had seen or learned. It stepped backwards, allowing the doors to close and the elevator to begin its descent into a lower, wider shaft.

A huge sigh of relief escaped his mouth as the landing disappeared completely, though the screaming and the pulsing had resumed and frightened him onto his feet. At least the walls were no longer so close to him, he thought, but he spun around as he thought he heard some other noise between the various bodily sounds.

A shadow brought his attention to the left, and then there was an earsplitting clang as something lashed out at him from outside.


	6. Alchemilla Hospital

A/N: Just a small heads-up: in Silent Hill tradition, the hospital is one of the most graphic sections of the game. This holds true for this story as well. Again, warnings include strong violence, sexual themes, blood and gore, general horror, and sensitive topics/themes. Thank you! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter Five

Snape spun around, looking to where the sound had come from. As the elevator continued downwards, he was sure he heard another growl mingle with the screams and the screeching of metal.

It came again, and with another metallic clang the corner of the grating was ripped away; he turned just in time to put a bullet into the long, scythe-like arm that had reached in for him. The monster gave a low roar and retreated, skittering about the outside walls again.

Snape fired and missed, just as the creature suddenly lurched headfirst into the enclosed space. His vision filled with the single spinning eyeball that had lodged itself in the monster's face, and it slammed into him instantly, sending him sprawling back against the metal framework. Gasping for breath, he had barely hit the floor before he pulled the trigger again. There was a spurt of blood from its neck, but it was still able to lash out with its razor-sharp arm. Even as Snape ducked, he was sure it would have taken an inch off his hair if he had still had it to spare.

Another shot to the torso sent the thing back into the elevator shaft, and Snape reloaded in the following lull. He could still hear it as it circled him, and soon it leaped forward again and shaved another corner off of the elevator. Snape jumped back, and as soon as its face appeared in the hole it had made, he fired three shots straight into its eyeball, spraying blood across the platform and sending the monster careening backwards with an ear-splitting roar.

He heard it thunder down the remainder of the shaft and land with a sickening crunch on the floor below. There was a moment of relative stillness before he let out a breath, massaging what would soon be a large bruise on his chest, and he waited for the elevator to finish his descent. It screeched to a halt a few meters from the ground, and the doors opened to allow him to slip out and drop onto the landing.

He found the corpse of the creature crumpled at the bottom of the shaft, and he was about to keep moving when he noticed something odd hanging from its outstretched arm. Approaching it cautiously, he reached out and snatched the object by the cord before quickly pulling back. It was just a thin piece of wood with what seemed like the image of a bull carved into it, but he nonetheless put it into his bag. After all, he thought, he had not yet encountered such an object that had not been of use to him.

But then as he turned away from it, he let out a yelp as the elevator crashed downwards, and a grisly splattering sound came from the corpse that now lay beneath it in a squashed, bloody pulp. He quickly moved into the next hallway, drawn by another sound.

There was crying coming from somewhere in the darkness around him. He tried to follow it, taking another left turn. But then he stopped in the middle of the corridor, examining the pattern of the broken tiles. Suddenly it hit him: left turn from the elevator, another left towards the second floor ward. This hospital had assumed the exact layout of St. Mungo's, and then twisted it into its own hellish copy.

At this point he shouldn't have been surprised, but he did falter slightly, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. But this too seemed like an unwise choice, as the walls were covered in sheets of bloody flesh. The weeping became louder, and he thought he could hear someone crying for help.

"Ms. Branston?" he called. He was not about to trust anything; not after everything he had been through. "Ms. Branston, is that you?" The crying paired itself with footsteps, and he saw a woman's figure come into view.

He was glad he kept his gun raised for another moment longer. She looked up, revealing that her face was nothing more than a writhing mass of flesh. Her ragged, blood-soaked robes matched those of the St. Mungo's healers that he had come to know so well, and her nursing cap sat crushed and dirtied upon her filthy hair. She came nearer, hobbling as though her legs were angled the wrong way, and her hand rose up to reveal a long, sharp-looking scalpel clutched within it.

Snape fired, and he almost let out a gasp as she twitched out of the way, her movements suddenly becoming quick and erratic. She lunged for him with the scalpel and he only barely dodged; he heard the point catch on the fabric of his shirt and slit it along his side. He shot at her again and heard a shriek, even though the nurse had swung deftly out of the way. Another shot, and this one hit her in the right shoulder, causing another scream to ring out. She dropped the scalpel and charged towards him, limbs flying, and his next bullet buried itself in her face. She stopped dead, and there was a thud as she hit the floor.

He stared down at her for a moment, his eyes wide in horror. He had thought at first that the nurse had been dressed like those at St. Mungo's, but he had missed a few key details in his panic. The bottom of her robes appeared to have been ripped away, revealing an impressive length of raw, bloody leg, and much of the top been ripped away as well. Now the neckline left little to the imagination, allowing the curves of her breasts to spill indecently over the fabric. Snape caught himself gawking and looked away quickly, his stomach turning over uncomfortably.

A movement caught his eye, and he was at least grateful for the distraction. Strangely, he couldn't immediately discern what he had seen exactly. It was just the wall bleeding again, although... He paled slightly as he saw the bullet hole he had put into it, and something that had happened earlier flashed through his mind. He raised his gun and fired into the wall.

He jumped as the panel screamed and began to writhe violently, and it echoed all the way down the hall as he darted off.

The doorway to the main corridor presented itself and he entered, glad at least to be rid of the fleshy walls. And yet, it seemed as though this new architectural feature would be unavoidable from now on, seeing as three sides of the room were covered in it as well. The remaining wall seemed to be made of dark, rough marble, and into it was hewn several openings into which various coffins had been slipped. Each vault was fitted with a small hook, as though he was meant to place something on each one. His mind flickered to the wooden plate in his bag.

While on one hand he was rather glad to have some kind of direction, the dread of what awaited him weighed heavily in his chest. Almost automatically, he began to stuff a few more bullets into his gun. Whatever it was that the puzzle was asking for, he noticed, there were six, after he had gotten a count. He assumed he already had one of them, but... He sighed.

"Lily..." His hand again went to the scrap of cloth around his wrist, still white despite the way that his sleeve was almost black with filth. He sighed again. "Why are you doing this to me?"

As if to answer him, there was a clang of metal from behind him, and he spun around to see that the executioner had returned, its bony hand still clutching the hilt of Gryffindor's sword. Suddenly Snape was glad that he had taken the time to reload earlier. He raised his gun and fired as the monster advanced, but despite having hit it directly in the chest, it seemed not to be bothered. Snape landed several more shots before his back hit the marble wall, and though each one found its target, the executioner did not stop or even seem to bleed. Luckily it was slow enough for Snape to see when it was raising the sword to attack.

He dodged to the side, running for the next doorway, and he stopped only to turn and pull the trigger twice more. Again, each bullet pierced the creature's flesh, and it did not so much as flinch. The door handle turned in his hand as he frantically pulled at it, and he slammed the door shut just as the monster was closing in. There was a roar from the other side and Snape barely moved aside as the length of the sword stabbed through the thick metal of the door as if it were tissue paper. Then the entire wall seemed to rattle as the creature rammed itself against it.

Snape was almost dizzy with sheer panic, and even all his weight against the door did little to hold the creature back. There was another roar, signaling that it was ready to try and impale him on the sword again. But then it paused when the air raid siren began to sound in the distance, and it gave a discontented grunt. He could hear the screeching of metal as the sword dragged across the latticed floor, and it became softer as the creature moved further away. In a moment, it was silent.

He breathed a sigh of relief and then immediately seized up again as he saw the pack of nurses standing in the center of the room. The one at the front seemed even bustier and bloodier than the others, and suddenly a movement from around her neck set a far greater fear into Snape than the executioner had.

A large, glittering serpent slithered down the nurse's body and began its approach.

Immediately Snape went to shoot it, and with a panic unmatched by any he had felt during his time in the town, he heard the click of an empty chamber. The snake came slowly, as though savoring his terror, and he began an almost hysterical attempt to reload the gun. He had only managed to get three bullets inside it when the snake came too close, and Snape tore the axe from his belt and swung it as the creature reared. He dove out of the way of its strike, missing it himself, and he turned his back on the nurses for just a moment while the snake slumped against the door in a daze. It had hit its head on the solid metal frame when it passed by him, and Snape took the opportunity to bring the axe down on it. Blood began to bubble up from its severed neck, and then he made to turn back to the other creatures.

He did not get the chance. The lead nurse had already come upon him, and he felt her raw, bleeding arms embrace him with an iron grasp. He writhed against her helplessly, and he could suddenly feel himself growing weaker, as though she was sucking the life force from him. His skin began to feel hot and tight, and the pure heat of her breasts against his back, and her breath on his neck as she moaned were enough to cause him to let out a cry of pain. It was like some horrible nightmare in itself, separate from this hellish place.

He fumbled for the gun that had been stuffed into his pocket, tears of horror running freely down his cheeks as he felt his eyesight dim momentarily. His hand found the grip, but he could not move his arms so as to point it at her. All he could do was turn the gun around and hold it as he had read specifically how _not_ to, and he tried to aim it just to the left of his own side. He pulled the trigger.

The lights that had already been dancing in his eyes exploded as he felt the bullet graze his side and both of his wrists snap with the recoil. But the nurse also screamed and fell back. He turned, and there was a bang before another of the nurses fell. A second, and another nurse. His hand felt the handle of the axe as he bent to the floor, never taking his eyes from the advancing creatures, and he blindly launched himself forward into the fray. Their screams echoed in his ears, the blood hot against his skin, and he could feel his own blood seeping from his side and his wrists burning as he pushed them past their capacity. He could feel the bones cracking further.

After what seemed like an eternity, the room went still. Snape fell to the floor, grasping for some of the healing discs that Adelle had mercifully placed inside his bag. At this point he could barely hold his wand for the recoil had mangled his wrists so thoroughly, but he sat and attempted to mend the bones. When the stabbing pain had subsided, leaving only a bruised feeling, he moved to repair the gash in his side, which was thankfully shallow.

When he finally rose, his breath caught in his throat. Behind him was a mass of jumbled limbs and bared breasts, the blood seeping through torn clothes and glittering on feminine skin. For a moment their screams echoed once more, and the memory came back.

"_You do not enjoy such events?" Voldemort had asked, his non-existent eyebrows rising incredulously above his red eyes. Snape looked out impassively at the scene, blocking the screams of the women, trying not to see the blood and the naked flesh. It was not often that the Death Eaters were allowed such occasions, but they were enthusiastic about it when they were. He knew that if Regulus had been there, he would have seen standing aside with the same sickened feeling. They had always stood together._

"_I find them distasteful, My Lord," he said honestly. But as he felt the Dark wizard probing his emotions, he had to quell the pity and disgust that bubbled in his stomach._

"_Perhaps it is not women you want?" A cruel smile had split across his greying features. "I'm sure we can arrange something."_

"_It is not that which find objectionable," he said airily. He was doing his best to cover his true thoughts, as he always did. "Simply..." He tried to think of something. "I find both myself and my colleagues above such, shall I say, intimate associations with women of lesser blood."_

"_There are those with equal blood as yours," Voldemort hummed, still watching as though he were in the stands of an only mildly interesting Quidditch game. "And if it is privacy you want then you are free to take what you wish to your own chambers."_

"_To be honest, My Lord..." and this was perhaps the most truthful thing he had ever said to the Dark wizard, "I find such... _Carnal_ activities somewhat revolting. My Lord."_

_The closest Voldemort ever came to an amused laugh occurred right then, and he looked down at Snape for a moment. "I think we have quite a bit in common, Severus. I think you shall become quite successful with my Death Eaters, given that you are as loyal as you are now."_

"_Always, My Lord."_

"_Good..." He looked smoothly back up at what was taking place in front of him. "But for now, I will not deny my other subjects their enjoyment..."_

Snape had long since put that conversation from his mind, and had done much to forget all the similar events following it as well. But now, when such a hideously familiar scene lay in front of him- of his own doing even- it was difficult for him not to remember. The feeling of the nurse's flesh on his seemed branded into his mind, and it made him want to vomit.

He carefully set new bullets into his gun and used one more disc on his wrists for good measure before leaving the room behind.

Though the smell of blood was overpowering, this new hallway seemed to be almost a relief after what he had just dealt with. The walls continued to pulse, the flesh occasionally letting out small waves of blood, and the doors were made of a dark, rusted iron. It was plain to see a few gurneys littered about the hall as well, with filthy brown sheets covering the festering bodies underneath. Snape did not trust that these were truly dead, and so he kept his gun at the ready.

The axle on an overturned wheelchair to his right began to rotate slowly, and he jumped back as the squeak of the metal startled him. But as he did so, his foot hit something that gave an earsplitting crack, and several more pops and bangs left him leaping skittishly from foot to foot. When it had subsided, he turned only to find a grimy-looking mirror hanging to his left, and a number of empty firecrackers littered around him. Neither of these seemed overtly frightening in themselves, though he was fairly sure he had heard someone's laughter echoing in the distance. Suddenly the light in the hall dimmed considerably, making his hand dart almost automatically to the on switch of his torch. There was only one door that he could see was not overtaken by the flesh of the walls, and so he went to it, his gun already cocked.

But as he grew closer, he could hear crying again, though it was too soft and timid to have come from one of the nurses. A muffled scream emitted from the door as he came up to it, and the crying turned to sobs of agony. With one finger ready on the trigger, he opened the door.

He leapt back as she screamed louder, though he could not really call it a 'she'. The creature's grey skin seemed to be stretched across a frame just inside the doorway, and its seemingly pregnant belly appeared to have been ripped open. Snape stared, having backed into the hallway, and he noticed suddenly that another wooden plate was hanging just within her empty womb. His stomach turned slightly as he realized what he would have to do.

She was trapped fairly securely, and so he felt as though it was only somewhat dangerous to inch towards her, his arm outstretched. He hoped her flesh wouldn't lurch forward to consume his arm or anything, and he tried to avoid touching her despite the way she thrashed from side to side. His hand closed around the leather cord and he yanked outward, causing her to buckle towards him in anguish and let loose a bloodcurdling shriek. Then she went still, and her flesh dissolved into ashes that fell between the broken tiles beneath her.

There was a pause as Snape looked at where she had been hanging, and then back to the plate in his hand. He couldn't make out what was on it exactly, but it seemed to be a large dog or some similar creature. Again, he was rather lost as to what it meant without a riddle to go alongside it.

Hesitantly he stepped through the now-open pathway and came face to face with a new hallway, the wall in front of him bleeding from the words that had been carved into it.

_The pain is eternal._

_I cannot escape,_

_No matter how I try._

_I try._

_I try._

Snape couldn't help but think back to the creature he had seen splayed out before him just a few moments prior, but on the other hand, the sentiment verbalized in such a place as the hospital struck him as oddly nostalgic. He had felt trapped there, just as he was trapped in the town, in this nightmare world. These thoughts brought on a sudden spell of claustrophobia, as he stood surrounded by so much throbbing flesh and the sound of a heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He grasped at the vial of potion around his neck as the hallway seemed to enfold him, smothering him...

He snapped from his trance when a bang sounded by his feet, and he saw another firecracker fly at him from the left. But his attention was turned in the other direction by the sound of metal clanking, coming from somewhere in the darkness. Another wave of panic washed over him and the image of the executioner was fresh in his mind. He backed away as quietly could, and just as he saw the outline of something large move in the darkness, his hand found a loose doorknob and he quickly darted into the next room.

He found himself in the main stairwell and, judging by the way that the stairs going downward were blocked by another wall of flesh, he decided to take the steps upward. But his heart sank as he realized he would be entering the fourth floor, where those inflicted with incurable hexes or curses were kept. It was, in essence, the hospital's sanitarium.

He opened the door slowly, the creak it made sounding ominous in the quiet. The room was even darker than the stairwell, nearly pitch black save for the spear of light that the flashlight sent through it. The door closed behind him, and suddenly all hell broke loose.

It had brightened only barely enough for him to see the line of beds on either end of the hall, each one thrashing violently about as their occupants struggled against their restraints. The air was filled with screams of pain, peals of maniacal laughter, and the howling of every other damned soul that had been trapped there. Snape thought that perhaps he could just walk quietly through without drawing any attention to himself, but about half of the way down he realized that this was a foolish thing to hope for. There was a roar and a ripping sound, as though one of the people strapped to the beds had broken free.

A large monster plodded into view, though it seemed after a moment to be two separate creatures fused into one body. An arm overlapped a leg going the opposite way, and a shoulder poked out from the leftmost creature's chest; the two bodies seemed fitted together like a twisted jigsaw puzzle, with only three legs reaching the ground to walk on. It moved erratically on its jumbled legs, letting out shrieks and moans as though it were in intense pain.

A shot rang out, and Snape's bullet pierced the skull of the right-most head. He might have fired again if the restraints on the beds on either side of him hadn't sprung towards him, catching his arms. They yanked him from side to side as the monster advanced, the screams growing louder the closer it came. He could see the head he had shot was drooping wearily, as though it was trying to hold on for the other body.

He pulled at the wide leather restraints wrapped around his wrists, and he managed to get his finger on the trigger again and pull. The belts jumped as the bullets hit their target, and he was able to tear away from them in that moment of weakness. Then he turned on the spot and fired one more shot, straight into the head of the nurse that had been just about to stab him from behind. Both of them dropped, and the room went still.

Snape moved towards where the two-headed monster had crumpled, and he saw clutched in one of its hands another wooden plate. His flashlight revealed what seemed to be a pair of lions carved into it, and he put it into his bag with the others. He turned to continue through the sanitarium, and almost plowed face-first into the door that had suddenly appeared in front of him. He looked around, and suddenly he was in the stairwell once again. But the confusion barely even hit him before he saw the rusted sign above the door. _First floor: Creature-Induced Injuries. _

This had been his ward. He knew it like the back of his hand, having walked its halls more times than he could count, through seemingly endless hours of rehabilitation. He hadn't even been able to walk when he had woken up, since Nagini's poison had so thoroughly diffused within his body. Even moving had been agonizing, each muscle erupting with pain when he so much as took a breath. He hadn't been able to speak for at least a month, as his vocal chords had been ripped in two, and his throat had been so completely destroyed that for over two weeks he had received meals only through a needle in his arm. After that he graduated to liquid sustainment: little more than vile mixtures made of vitamins and calories.

He remembered his first words when his neck had gained some semblance of a structure once more. It had come out as a wheeze, sounding too coarse to belong to anything human. "_Let me die_," he had croaked. But they kept him alive, held together with no more than spells and potions. Sometimes he lay in his hospital bed and cursed the snake for having not bitten down just a little bit harder. If she had, he thought, maybe she would have snapped his neck, and he wouldn't have had to endure such torture.

His hand went to the door, and he pushed it open.

It was what he had expected. It was the hallway he remembered, but warped by the nightmare as each place before it had been. He knew; eighty-four small steps down its length, or sixty-six larger ones. He could even hear the usual goings-on of the ward: the rattling that the food cart made as its wheels clacked over the tiles, the clatter of medicine vials as they bumped together in the rack, the general mumblings of nurses arranging bed sheets and patients commenting on the nice breeze that was blowing through their window. The sounds brought the memories back even more strongly.

_When he stumbled for the second time, Adelle took a firm hold of his arm despite his protests. He simply scowled at her, leaning more heavily on the simple cane that she had provided. She walked with him down the hall while he counted to himself, counting how many steps until the pain and humiliation would end. _

_Other nurses would stare at him as he passed, other patients gawked. The man who killed Albus Dumbledore now hobbled weakly down the corridor, leaning on a petite woman for support. They saw the Dark Lord's right hand- Dumbledore's top spy- suddenly taken from his black, flowing robes and put into a thin, white hospital gown from which the bony contours of his back were visible, and his limbs protruded like sallow toothpicks. The feared, respected Potions Master had been reduced to a frail, sickly wisp of a man that was no less pitiable than some flea-bitten animal._

But now that he thought back to it, Adelle never gawked and never judged. And this, in some strange way, eased the unbearable pain that came back to him with the memories.

He was on step sixty-one, and he quickly cleared the rest of the distance to Room 136. He had been on the end, as far away from everyone else as the hospital staff could get him.

The door seemed to open on its own, and he looked into the doorway and saw himself.

Strangely, he looked as much a part of the town as any of the monsters had. The doctors had shaved his head, leaving a few places where it had started to grow back in prickly tufts of grey. He had been stripped of his bandages as well, revealing a tattered mess of skin and half-formed muscle. Around it, the flesh was dark with the purple bruises of broken blood vessels. The bruises continued into his face and settled into the bags beneath his eyes, so swollen that they could barely open. What wasn't purple had turned a sickly yellow; everything, including the stick-like arms and legs that seemed more fitting for a child's plaything than a man.

The sounds suddenly stopped as a bang rang out, and Snape jumped back from the mirror as another figure appeared inside it. It's huge, bloodshot eyes bulged from a rotting face, its grin big enough to literally reach from one ear to the other. Its teeth dripped with blood, and it let out a delighted cackle and threw another firecracker through the glass. It erupted into a series of pops, leaving Snape to hop foolishly around to avoid them, and it gave another laugh before dragging an impossibly long tongue across its side of the glass and disappearing in a flurry of gangly limbs and claws.

Snape could hear it bouncing inside of the walls, giggling all the while, and he saw that the next hallway door had opened for him. He followed the sound, and the door slammed behind him before he could turn around again.

The hall was embedded with pieces of mirror-like glass, and the fleshy walls were bleeding where the sharp edges cut into them. From where he stood Snape could see the creature skittering from shard to shard, disappearing in the solid bits of wall between them. Suddenly it was above him in a piece of glass on the ceiling, and he did not have time to move before a firecracker exploded by his feet. The sparks licked his skin through the fabric of his trousers, and he let out a yell of pain before aiming his gun at the creature's retreating form.

The glass shattered, raining down to the floor, but he only heard the monster cackle louder. There was a crackling sound from above him, and he leaped forward just as a sharp slab of the glass came crashing down from the ceiling. There was more laughter.

Another bullet found its way into a mirror, and he dodged another firecracker. The creature seemed to be everywhere at once, its eyes piercing into him, its claws clacking against the glass. Snape had been counting the bullets he had left, and when there were only two remaining, he turned on his heel and fired into the glass behind him. He had been looking straight into those hypnotic eyes for only a split second, but he knew he had found his mark. The laughter had stopped.

But this piece of glass seemed to have something more behind it than just the wall, and Snape saw another one of the plates hanging within the darkness. He reloaded his gun almost automatically, before hesitantly reaching his hand inside to pull the object out. And yet, it would not budge. He pulled harder and harder until finally it came free- and the entire sheet of glass with it. As it fell about his feet in sparkling fragments, Snape realized that there was a door behind it. It opened to reveal only darkness, no matter where he shone his light.

Suddenly he heard a horribly familiar metal clanking, and he stepped away from the hole. He had been torn for a moment, but he thought he would rather fight the executioner here than in dark and ominous new room into which it would certainly follow him. But then, after he readied his gun, he realized with an oddly sinking feeling that it was not the executioner that had been creeping up on him.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at for a moment, but it seemed to be the torso of a faceless woman, attached to a large metal frame that let out a squeal each time the wheels made a full turn. Several legs protruding from either side of the cart propelled her forward, each one of them crooked and splayed as though they belonged to a crushed spider. And then, in the front, the source of the clanking hung in the form of a large metal jaw that yanked the creature forward as it snapped its long, needle-like teeth.

Snape's mouth fell open for a moment before he opened fire on the creature, hitting it twice in the stomach and sending the body reeling backward. But the metal frame stayed where it was, and after a split second it burst towards him, barreling down the hall. He shot it again, and while the body was thrown back from the blast, he leaped up with as much strength as he could muster and sailed over the creature's head.

He landed in a jumbled heap on the floor, groaning as his body protested. But as he scrambled back onto his feet, he saw the monster twist itself with a bodily squelch so that it faced him once again. But before he could even raise his gun, it charged a second time, and he fell against the wall as it came upon him. For a moment he ignored the uncomfortable burning where his arm had fallen, and he shot the monster at point blank range before trying to kick away the legs that were still flailing uncontrollably.

One of his feet was perched precariously on the top of the metal jaw, and it bounced him like a rag dog as it snapped open and closed with its vicious-looking teeth. He would have tried to get away from the beast altogether, but it was then that he realized that the wall had started to encase his arm in its own flesh, and that the burning was becoming increasingly painful.

He kicked the creature in the face while two of its legs repeatedly struck his chest, and despite the lights that had started to dance in front of him, he turned just enough to put a bullet into the wall that held him. Its scream mingled with that of the creature currently beating him to a pulp, and he threw himself as far away from it as he could manage. But the screeching of the metal jaw became almost deafening and he had to roll away from it, only pausing to cock his gun. Another shot rang out, and there was a spray of blood as its face burst open, the jaw slowing to a halt just centimeters from his side.

There were several moments in which he dared not move, and then he finally let his head fall back against the floor. He lay there for a moment, trying to figure out if he had broken something; if he had to guess based on the pain, he would have assumed he had broken everything. Finally he got to his knees to examine his arm, and he found that the wall had burned away his sleeve and some of the skin, leaving it as raw as the flesh of the nurses that he had seen so much of. But then, as he turned his arm palm-up, he realized that just enough of his shirt was missing to give him an unhindered view of the Dark Mark still etched above his wrist. He put a hand to his face and sighed before standing up.

Something made him stumble and fall back onto the floor. The jaw had come so close to him that the corner of his bag had gotten caught in its teeth, and it might have actually slowed its advance and saved his life. But he didn't wish to rip the material any further, and so he pointed his gun at the creature and fired; the impact opened the jaw for a moment and he pulled his bag out before it closed again.

He looked inside and pulled out a healing disc for his arm and then a second for the giant welts that were forming on his chest. A knot formed in his stomach as he realized that there would only be one remaining, but he tried not to think about it.

When he had finished, he stared uneasily down at the Dark Mark and tried to hide it with the white cloth- but it was not nearly big enough to cover it completely. His thumb moved up and down its length, and with a sigh of disgust he rose to his feet.

The doorway was still as dark as he had left it, and he carefully made sure that his foot had somewhere to go before he stepped forward. As he entered, his torch began to burn through the darkness, and soon he was able to see what was in front of him. Suddenly he wished he couldn't.

He was standing on a square plot of dirt, and in the center was an open grave, the excess soil lying in a fresh pile beside it. This did not bother him as much as the tombstone that stood at its head, with his name deeply carved into the marble. There were other graves as well, but these were filled and bore no names on their stones. There was no way he was about to leap into his own grave, he thought, but the idea of the unidentified graves around him unsettled him as well.

Suddenly he heard voices, and he turned to the doorway, still finding it empty. There were harsh whispers, hisses of laughter, and then quiet for a moment before they continued. They seemed to be getting closer.

Snape's brow furrowed, and he thought for a moment that he recognized them. "Mulciber?" he called out. "Avery?" He wasn't sure why exactly he was calling to them; they were some of the last people he wanted to see, especially in a place like this.

There was a flash of red from deep within Snape's empty grave, and it caught his attention for only a moment; just enough time for something to creep up behind him and send him careening into the hole. He saw two figures looming above him as he fell, and then he plunged into the vast darkness.

...

He awoke with his face half emerged in a foul-tasting puddle, and he spit vigorously to try and clear his tongue. But even as he continued to sputter, he felt a presence over him and a voice whisper in his ear.

He jumped to his feet, blindly jamming bullets into the chamber of his gun. It had been a woman's voice, but he knew it had not been Lily's. There was something too ominous about it; a low, seductive tone that seemed to reverberate between the dark, dripping stone about him. Whereas other halls before this had been illuminated at varying degrees, this dank, dungeon-like place was a pitch black that was penetrable only by the beam of his flashlight.

The voice came again, calling his name, and he directed his flashlight in either direction, finding nothing. He could feel breathing on the back of his neck, and then it was gone.

Carefully he advanced down the hallway, surrounded by nothing but stone. But then his light found a metallic glitter, and he approached it to discover a prison cell carved into the rock. His heart began to race as something occurred to him, and he turned to see what else lay in front of him. More cells, more prison bars.

Azkaban.

Suddenly something reached out through the bars and grabbed him by the wrist, and he gave a yell of fright as he tried to pull away. It held fast, and soon another joined it. Their faces were hollow, with grey skin and eyeless sockets, and into their flesh were carved various bleeding patterns. Snape fired at them, and they shrank back. Suddenly, due only to the designs, he recognized them.

"The Lestrange brothers."

"_And to think how close you came to being just like them."_ Snape spun around as an insane titter rang out, and he immediately identified the voice as belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange. Her laughter echoed up and down the hallway, sending unpleasant shivers down his spine. Then she was behind him again, her arms thrown about him. Suddenly he remembered back to the nurse that had grabbed hold of him earlier, and to what it had reminded him of. Bellatrix giggled into his ear.

_She pouted, circling him like a hungry cat as he tried to make his way through the hall. "It's just that everyone else is away," she purred, and Snape's expression did not move from its stony indifference. He attempted to move around her. "And I'm bored," she clarified, and she reached to seize his arm. _

"_Let go of me, Bellatrix," he growled, tearing her grip away. But then as he continued onwards, he didn't sense until too late that she had drawn her wand, and his own suddenly flew from inside his cloak and clattered to the ground by the witch's feet._

"_I wasn't asking," she said harshly, and suddenly she was in front of him, pressing him against the wall as her nails dug into one side of his throat, and her wand into the other. She chuckled, a light of pure evil shining in her eyes. "My, my," she tittered. "You're still just a boy, fresh from school. I can see it on your face. You're..." She grinned. "Afraid."_

"_You don't want-"_

"_Not particularly," she hissed cruelly. He was beginning to feel dizzy, and it was difficult to breathe since she was blocking off his wind pipe. The pressure of her strong body against his weak one was crushing him, and her breasts were almost overflowing from the front of her robes as he averted his gaze. "Quite frankly you're one of the ugliest men My Lord has ever taken on, and you reek of those filthy potions you always have that oversized nose of yours stuck in." Her eyebrows rose slightly, and she cocked her head to the side. "But that's not the point."_

"_Bella!"_

She let go, and Snape fired twice after her retreating form. But soon her cackles died away, leaving nothing more than the sound of water dripping into the stone, and the moaning of Rabastan and Rodolphus in their cell.

There was a clatter from further down the hall, and he directed his torchlight to where another figure came into view. He was recognizable almost immediately. His expensive robes were now in tatters, and his silky blonde hair now hung about his face in patchy ropes of black filth. The cane he had always carried his wand in- or used to hit people he found offensive with- was now shoved mercilessly through his chest. With each step he wheezed, as though he was in pain.

Snape remembered the day in the hospital as though it had been yesterday.

He had taken to reading the Prophet despite the pain it caused him and Adelle's consequential scolding, until one morning it ceased to appear on his nightstand. The nurse appeared some time later, acting as though nothing had happened. "There is no Prophet today?" he had asked, though there was no question in his tone. The two of them fought briefly before Adelle gave in and threw the paper down on his bed.

The front page bore Lucius Malfoy's picture, and the words, "MOB MURDER". The story described how Harry Potter's testimony had ensured the man clemency in court, and the same for his wife and son. But though he had tried to disguise himself before going out into public some two months later, a group of people had recognized him. They chased him into an alleyway and placed curse after curse on his body until he could no longer go on. He died with chants of 'Muggle-killer' and 'Death Eater' still ringing in his ears, and when he was finally found, his body had been impaled on his own cane.

Adelle knew what she had been saying earlier, and her words still echoed in his mind. "_Harry Potter can do all he wants to tell people what you fought for, but there are still many who would love to see you dead. From both sides._"

Snape stared down at the Mark in his own arm, and looked back up at Lucius. No man deserved what he had gotten, and yet... He could not bring himself to feel sympathy for him. For Narcissa, yes. For Draco, yes. But Lucius had no regrets for what he had done; he had only been sorry that he had been caught. Snape remembered how he had carried himself when they had been in school together: he had been full of pride for his blood and distain for those he felt were below him. The older wizard had used that poise to seduce him; he did as the Dark Lord had done during his time at school, and he preyed upon the weak and fearful. His words, spoken always so gently and so full of benign authority, had lulled him into a sense of false security with the fledgling Death Eaters, and he had not realized his mistake until the Mark had already been branded into his arm. By then it was too late.

Another sound caught his attention, and he turned only slightly from Lucius to see two figures similar to Rabastan and Rudolphus plod into view, their faces bleeding with the patterns of their masks. If Snape didn't recognize them by the markings, then he certainly recognized them as the two that had pushed him down into this place: Mulciber and Avery.

He did not even flinch as he raised the gun and opened fire on them. They fell, one after the other, and there was no remorse in Snape's eyes. He wanted them gone, destroyed, removed from the world. He had thought they were making him powerful, but instead they dragged him into the depths of an earthly hell.

No, he thought. They did not drag him. They led him gently by the hand, and he followed like an obedient dog. In the same way, those two had not truly pushed him into his place: they had appeared, and he had fallen due to his own lack of balance, his own lack of willpower.

The thud they made as they hit the wall resonated within the stone walls, and he turned back on Lucius, never lowering the gun. The same hatred shone in his eyes; Lucius deserved what he had gotten.

_He had heard people talk as Adelle guided his frail body down the hospital corridor. _

"_Serves him right," they would say. _

"_He got what was coming to him." _

"_I bet he's laughs to himself every day. I bet he laughs about how many times he's pulled to wool over everyone's eyes."_

"_He doesn't even seem sorry."_

_He had wanted to scream at them, tell them that they had no idea what he was feeling or thinking, and that it was insufferably conceited of them to think that they did. They didn't know what he had been through, and he wanted to break into a rage and tell them; tell them about the pain and the anger and the inexpressible remorse. But the apathy that shrouded him in that place always became even heavier, and he merely grunted his disapproval. The people who whispered took it as confirmation._

For a moment the gun wavered, and Snape finally looked past the barrel to see the creature stumbling weakly, its hands pawing at the cane embedded in its chest. It moaned pitifully, and slowly Snape took his finger off the trigger. The monster came closer, and he hesitantly reached out until it was almost within arm's reach. It made no move to attack him.

Snape grabbed hold of the silver snake head, and the monster let out an agonized shriek when he gave it a gentle tug. Then his eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip before stepping back and pulling it towards him as sharply as he could. The scream was ear-piercing, but he saw the creature begin to dissolve into ashes as soon as the cane came free, as though it had been tying him to that grotesque form. In another second the cane itself fell between his fingers, joining the rest of the dust at his feet.

After all, he thought, who was he to judge who was remorseful and who was not?

Another cackle drew his attention further down the hall, but it echoed away and left a low moaning in its place. Snape cautiously moved towards it with his gun at the ready, until he came to a door from which the muffled sound came. When it was within reach it suddenly slammed open of its own accord, startling Snape and causing him to jump backwards.

It seemed to be just a closet, in which a gruesome corpse hung dangled by a noose. A large snake had coiled itself around the body, and he watched as it tore off a fresh piece of shoulder and swallowed it whole. It rose when it noticed Snape standing there, and it dodged the bullet he fired at it. But instead of striking, it slithered downward- avoiding various gunshots- and slithered past him towards the double doors.

It was then that he saw several dozen of them, all glistening emerald in the light as they glided past him. The doors at the end of the hall opened slowly, allowing the serpents inside, and Snape's heart sank as he realized that he would have to follow them. But first he spied another wooden plate, this one with no apparent markings. He did not have time to find this odd, however, and merely reloaded his gun before creeping towards the large doors. But first something sitting by the entrance caught his eye, and he picked up another box of bullets that seemed to have been left there. On one hand he was grateful, since he was on his last box, and on the other hand he began to panic in anticipation of what awaited him.

The doors closed behind him when he entered, and this in itself was no longer surprising to him. He found himself in an enormous space, a blue light emanating from the domed ceiling. It was as though he was hundreds of miles underground, with stone surrounding him on every side, and his footsteps splashing through the consistent centimeter of water that pooled on the floor. It was silent save for a repetitive dripping on the stone.

Snape's heart lurched in his chest as something exploded out of the water, towering above him, and it took a moment for his eyes to understand what it was. It was a woman's torso with a snake's body; her scales glittering and her slitted eyes amber in the semi-darkness. She had a snake's face; one that he recognized immediately as belonging to the creature that had come so close to eating him alive, to Voldemort's precious Nagini. He remembered her face- different from that of other snakes- as it had been branded into his memory not a minute before he fell out of conscious on the night of that last battle. The creature bared her fangs at him, hissing, and the memory of those same fangs plunging into his flesh made the new scars begin to throb painfully.

She reared up, giving an ear-piercing screech that sounded exactly like Bellatrix, and Snape realized with a sinking feeling that this beast was large enough for him to sit comfortably in her hand. Certainly his whole body would be only a few measly mouthfuls to her.

She lunged forward, and Snape's bullet made a worrisome clatter against the stone wall as she easily dodged out of the way. Another shot missed, and he turned to run from her grasp as she came upon him. She reached out for him, a feminine scream of delight coming from her lipless mouth, and Snape just barely moved to the side of her fingers and sprinted down her length. The serpent twisted its body awkwardly to find him again, and as he turned to fire the end of her tail caught him behind his knees and sent him flying off his feet.

The next thing he knew, he was being squeezed like a baby mouse in her hand as she lifted him towards her eye level. But she never got that far; Snape began randomly firing in whatever direction he could and he hit her somewhere in the face. She let out a shriek of agony and dropped him, letting him fall onto a section of her scaled body before landing on the floor. He didn't even bother to get up; he just kept shooting until he was out of bullets.

The first thing he noticed when she turned was that he had shot one of her eyes out, and the other had been blinded momentarily by a stream of blood flowing down from her forehead. He lurched to his feet as quickly as he could, though the serpent's head twitched after him no matter in which direction he ran. His footsteps splashed in the water pooled about his feet.

But something odd occurred to Snape when she reared back again: for a moment, the outline of a body seemed to pulse from inside the beast's sleek belly.

Suddenly an idea flashed through his mind, just as she leaped forward towards him. He dodged out of the way, and she turned again, hearing his footsteps in the water. The gun was practically useless as a weapon since he had no time to reload, and so he threw it as hard as he could over the serpent's head. It clattered to the floor on the opposite side of the room, and her head snapped towards it.

He stood perfectly still as she slithered in that direction, and with careful steps he crept up behind her, trying not to disturb the water around him. He saw her tongue flicker out of her mouth as though she was tasting the air for signs of him. He knew for sure that he smelled strongly, and sure enough she began to turn and advance towards him. Her hand continued to rub at her blood-filled eye, trying to clear it but only making it more swollen and difficult to see out of.

Snape readied the axe in his hand as she came closer, and when she was a few meters away he lurched forward, jumping up and heaving the blade with all of his weight behind it. It sank between the creature's breasts as she screamed, and he felt himself pulled up off the ground as she thrashed about, her hands grasping for him, but he slipped between her fingers as gravity pulled him downwards, and the blade with him. There was a spray of blood as her belly was slit open, and Snape pressed himself against the body as a bloody mass spilled out with a gruesome sloshing sound, splattering into the water behind him. The beast fell backwards with an enormous splash, and it was still.

His hand rested on the scaly mass of flesh, and he sat on the corpse for a moment with his head hanging forward and his arms resting on his knees. It wasn't until then that he realized that he had a splitting headache, and it pulsed painfully in his temple. His eyes rose slightly and fell upon the mass of flesh that had fallen out of the beast, and it took him a moment to realize that it was a woman's body. He rose after a moment to examine it, and he froze as he recognized the pattern of her robes.

"_Help me... Severus, please."_

He had watched with a blank expression as Nagini devoured Charity Burbage, there on Lucius Malfoy's dining room table. He had at the time wondered what incomprehensible pain would result of being pierced with those massive fangs, and then there was a moment in the Shrieking Shack when he knew he would find out.

Snape put a hand to his neck, which was beginning to throb with a terrible ache. He went back to the beast and pulled the axe from her body, and he spent several moments staring down at her snake head with a look of purest loathing. With a cry of rage he plunged the axe blade into it, splitting her face between her eyes and down the non-existent nose.

Perhaps he did not fear snakes as he had before, but his hatred for them was no less intense. It seemed an odd sentiment for someone with such prominence in Slytherin House.

He turned back to where Charity lay, and he saw that she bore the last of the wooden plates in her hand. He picked it up with gentle fingers, turning it to find the faint outline of a butterfly still visible beneath the gore. There was a moment then in which Snape's face screwed up in something caught between grief and anger, and he had to force himself to look away from the body. Suddenly he was overcome by the urge to leave as quickly as possible- to get away from these things that upset him- and so he wrenched the axe from the beast's face and went to retrieve his gun. By then a door had opened on the far side of the room, and his footsteps splashed as he walked determinedly towards it.

Without a second thought, Snape stepped into the small space that the door had revealed, and after a moment it closed again and he felt himself being pulled upwards. It was dark except for the light of the torch reflecting on the damp, black stone that surrounded him, and so he merely closed his eyes. His nose wrinkled in disgust and he spat into the corner; he was covered with blood from head to toe, and a few drops of it had found their way into his mouth.

With Charity's plate still clutched in his hand, he began to think about what the puzzle at the hospital entrance meant. The more he thought about it, the more he began to understand, and the worse his headache got.

The elevator jolted to a halt, and the doors opened to reveal the puzzle not far in front of him. He could see the indentation that the executioner's sword had left in the floor, and he stepped uneasily over it to approach the six coffins still lined up before him. Now there was a riddle carved into the stone to the left of it.

_These are the names of the fallen,_

_They've left their bodies here,_

_With sunken eyes and marble lips,_

_Their chosen path is clear._

_The first was war-torn, battered, tough,_

_A single eye of glass,_

_His mangled body, brains and blood,_

_Lay glittering in the grass._

_The second-coward- forgot his place,_

_Ran from his destined path, _

_But destiny caught up to him,_

_And he suffered from its wrath._

_The third was ever-changing, _

_With freshly emptied womb,_

_She left her child for her love,_

_And lies beside him in their tomb._

_The fourth was but a half of one,_

_He died with laughing breath,_

_With all his tricks and jokes and smiles,_

_He could not prankster death._

_The fifth- a helpless passerby, _

_She pleaded for her life,_

_Devoured by his lady's maw,_

_She died in pain and strife._

_The last were two, the bravest still,_

_They are the final key,_

_They endured torture, anguish, pain,_

_And then insanity._

_There were, of course, far more who fought,_

_Who left their loved ones dear,_

_The only question to ask now:_

_Why are YOU still here?_

His stomach had started to squirm uncomfortably as he read further, and each of the monsters he had encountered earlier in the hospital made sense to him. Alastor Moody couldn't even wait until the elevator had descended before charging forward to rip him to pieces, the rage and the hatred evident in his single spinning eye. Igor Karkaroff had fled not for regret over his actions but for fear of what the Ministry would do if the Dark Lord were to fail, and he had hung for months in an abandoned mountain cabin before anyone found him. Nymphadora Tonks no doubt died with guilt knowing that she was leaving her child as an orphan, and the agony of that notion along with the fact that she had failed to protect her husband no doubt trapped her within her last moments.

Alice and Frank Longbottom had not been weak as others had been under the Death Eaters' torture, and they fell to madness before they gave in; their last conscious motions were to grasp for each other and pray for the safety of their child, before they fell into oblivion together. Fred Weasely's spirit was still happy to be getting a laugh, seeing as he had died in such a way; though he seemed to be crazed by the idea of leaving his twin behind- his mirrored half. Then there was Charity Burbage, as Snape had already identified, though her pleading and the sight of her half-eaten corpse was still fresh in his mind.

The last verse startled him, and he let his shoulders sag with the idea. Other people had died and felt the same pain and guilt that he had, and yet he had been unable to cope with the burden. Others had known tragedy and had been strong enough to live on; he had been weak, and took his grief out on others. That grief had led him to the Death Eaters, and had led to the deaths of many, including some of those described in the riddle.

The final part seemed easy to him. The carvings on the plates depicted the patronuses of the spirits they were taken from, and Snape took them all from his bag. On the first hook he placed the bull, Moody, full of strength and unshakable determination. The second was the blank plate, as Karkaroff was a Death Eater and therefore had no patronus. Tonks' patronus was Lupin's werewolf form: the image on the third plate and the symbol of her love for him no matter what shape he took. The fourth hook was filled by the parrot plate, as both the twins shared the same patronus and the same penchant for parroting each other. Burbage had a butterfly patronus, just as gentle and dainty as she had been when teaching her students about the value of all life: Muggle or Wizard. And finally, the Longbottoms both had patronuses shaped like lions: the epitome of the Gryffindor bravery that they displayed in the face of torture and death.

When this was done, each of the coffins was withdrawn into their compartment and out of sight, and then the entire wall split down the middle and opened for him. He took an uneasy breath and stepped forward.

He was glad to see that the room held no terrible beast or gruesome display, but was just covered with the metal grating and a long staircase spiraling upwards on the perimeter. It seemed to be empty.

But then Snape saw a flash of color, a fleck of orange hair that swept upwards a few flights above him, and then there was a swathe of white and Lily's form accompanying it.

"Lily!"

He tore off up the first flight of stairs, looking frantically around for another glimpse of Lily. He could see her gliding upwards, and he tried to run faster despite the pounding in his temples.

"Lily, wait for me!"

He continued to pull himself up by the railing, taking the steps two at a time until he could no longer sustain such a pace. He could still see Lily above him, but she continued her elegant sweep ahead of him, never turning to show her face. Snape could feel the ache in his thighs as he urged himself onward, but his chest seemed almost ready to explode as he tried to gasp for breath.

It seemed as though he had been running for hours before stairwell began to spin around him, and as he came off the next landing his foot caught on the first stair and sent him pitching forward. There was a sharp pain above his left eye, and everything went black.


	7. The Pyramid Man, The Other Church

Chapter Six

Snape awoke with a massive headache, and he had to squint while allowing his eyes to adjust to the harsh grey light. He found himself slumped at the bottom of a corner store's front steps, surrounded by the fog once again. He could see the park stretching out before him across the street, and to the right of it the parking lot with the car in which he had driven. He wondered for a moment if Lily was telling him to leave, but part of him knew this couldn't be right.

He stood and approached where he remembered parking the car, and soon he could see its outline in the mist. In a few more meters it came into view, and Snape could do nothing but put a halfhearted hand to his forehead to quell the ache there. The passenger door closest to him was open, and the large pool of congealed blood on the pavement suggested that the car had at one point been filled with it. The exterior was caked with brown rust, the front windshield was shattered, and the interior upholstery looked as though a large creature had slashed through it with razor-sharp claws. But at least it wasn't attacking him, Snape thought, and he moved away in favor of the park.

He wasn't sure that was where he was supposed to go. It was just that the park had been right in front of him, and there was something strange about the way that the fog thickened slightly over it, and seemed to twist into even odder shapes than usual. It drew him in, beckoning him into its maze of hedges.

An unfamiliar feeling swept over him as he passed through the gate. It was as if he had entered into a world separate from the nightmare he had fallen into, even though it appeared the same for all he could see. There was just the winding pathway, the hedges, the benches and fountains. It was beautiful, but held that haunted air that the rest of the town did. Perhaps, he thought, this strange feeling was cast over him by Lily? Would she finally wait for him on the waterfront, fitting perfectly into such a ghostly, yet exquisite setting?

He made his way to the water, coming slowly upon the boardwalk. The lake stretched out before him, and it mingled its quiet trickling with the silence as it lapped against the shoreline beneath the wood. A small bit of grass that bordered the lake caught Snape's attention, and he went to kneel before it, dipping his hands into the water and watching as the tendrils of crimson ghosted over the surface.

By the time he had left the hospital he had been covered from head to toe with blood, but now the water slowly cleansed the flesh he offered to it. He cupped some in his hands and wiped the grime from his face. He washed the mildewy taste from his mouth, and dipped his head forward to clean some of the blood out of his sticky hair. After a moment, he stared briefly at the Dark Mark still embedded in his arm, and he let the cool water wash over that as well.

Finally he rose, taking a refreshed breath and rubbing a hand against his face. It was quiet here, and the tranquility eased the throbbing in his head. After another breath, he glanced down the stretching boardwalk, finding it empty.

But with a second look, he noticed a figure sitting on one of the benches in the distance, and his heart fluttered for a moment before he realized that it was not Lily. Instead, it was a tall, blonde man who looked up as Snape slowly approached him.

"It seems you've seen your fair share of action," he said amiably, and he made room for Snape to sit next to him. Snape remained standing, responding to the odd feeling he was getting from him. Or perhaps, he thought, it was just the American accent.

"What are you?" he asked warily, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well there's the question I've been looking to hear." He gave a small chuckle. "You're the first to ask. Some people sit down and talk to me like they've known me for years. Others..." He shrugged, flicking a speck of dust off of his green coat. "Others try to shoot my face off."

"But you haven't answered the question."

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you, which I think is your main concern. I used to be called James, if you want to know." He had seen the flicker in Snape's eyes. "Apparently I'm not the only James around here?"

"There are many men by that name."

"Of course." There was a pause before James gestured down to the bench. "Please, sit." Snape hesitantly complied, somehow feeling that this man was not a malevolent trick, only some strange inhabitant of the town. "The name is Severus, right?"

"Yes," he murmured. "But you still haven't told me what you are."

"That's because I'm not sure exactly. I came here as a man some time ago; how long it's been exactly I don't know. All I do know is that I haven't eaten or slept in a long time. So now I just sit here and talk to the people who come through."

"And your original purpose here was...?"

"To find my wife." James saw the way that Snape had nodded. "You're looking for a wife as well?"

"No," he said quickly. "Just... Just a friend."

"A friend that you loved, maybe?"

"That is a personal matter and none of your business." Then, after another moment he continued, "And either way, I have no desire to speak of it."

James let out a yell of what almost seemed to be triumph, causing Snape to startle and give the other man an indignant glare. "Haven't you noticed? Every time you push something aside- every time you refuse to acknowledge something- it comes back to bite you in the ass."

There was a pause in which Snape pondered these words before phrasing his question. "How does this town _work_, exactly?"

"I can't answer that."

"And why not?"

"It defeats the purpose." He saw the livid look on Snape's face and gave a submissive bow of his head. "And either way, the town manifests itself differently for each person that passes through. Each monster, each room, each _floorboard_ is a result of your own internal feelings, particularly fear and guilt." He looked to right, where on the inclining edge of the park a figure loomed above them.

Snape's eyes widened as he took in its appearance. The monster took the form of a huge, heavily muscled man, dressed in a blood-streaked doctor's smock and gloves. At its side it carried a cruel-looking knife almost as long as the creature was tall, and his head was covered with a long, pointed contraption made of rusted metal.

"What...? What the hell _is_ that thing?"

"I call him Pyramidhead," said James, sounding impossibly nonchalant. He put a hand on Snape's arm to still him, after he had reached for the gun that he had temporarily stowed away. "He won't bother you. He's my demon to deal with; and in the same way, your monsters won't hurt me."

"Does he ever come after you?" breathed Snape. He couldn't take his eyes from it.

"He used to." James laughed again. "He's one nasty bastard, I can tell you that. But not anymore. I've dealt with him, and now we just coexist. Every once and a while he comes to sit with me, right where you're sitting now." Snape shivered, but did not move. "The guilt will never go away, but I've learned how not to let it control me. I've learned how to live with it." He seemed to think for a moment. "Of course, that could be why I'm still here. If you can find a way out, then you're a better man than I am."

It was quiet for a time as Snape looked out over the water, and James did not disturb him. His mind was beginning to feel burdened again, as the memories of his experiences in this place whispered through his thoughts like the mist on the water's surface. But at the same time, he could not help but feel as though he had accomplished something.

"I've learned so much in this town," he finally said, keeping his eyes on the water. "It's as though I've grown in some strange way."

"But it's been a slow process, hasn't it? Despite the fact that you've been here so short a time?"

Snape met James' eyes for a moment and then nodded. "You've been through this before. You certainly know."

"Yes."

"But it's still odd. I'm still afraid of many of the things I've seen here, and yet... For the first time, I feel as though perhaps that fear will fade in time."

"Nothing goes away immediately."

"Precisely. But..." He sighed. "I can face as many things this town can throw at me, but it doesn't change the fact that I have to face Lily eventually. And in that way... For every ounce of me that burns with an _unquenchable_ desire to see her again... I dread it with all my heart. More than anything I've encountered so far, I'm terrified by the prospect of finding something that I don't want to. For years I've wanted her acceptance, and it has always been my greatest fear that she will reject what I've done in her memory. I don't know if I could bear it."

"But you're going to face it anyway?"

"I'm so tired already," he whispered, "but I must."

"Hey," James said, and Snape was slightly taken aback by his casual tone. "I like you for some reason. That is, I've seen enough people come through this town who are completely clueless about their purpose here. They don't try and _understand_ Silent Hill. But I think the town could actually help you in the long run, and I'd like to see you get out here in one piece." He fished around for something in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small ampoule filled with a blue-tinted liquid, and then held it out to Snape.

"Forgive me if I don't trust it," he said after a slight hesitation.

"I swear, it's just medicine. It looks like your head took a good smack and wrists are pretty bruised... And knowing this place I'm sure that's not the worst of it." There was a pause as Snape eyed him warily, and James laughed outright. "You're a hell of a lot smarter than I was when I was in your position," he said with a grin. "The first time I found one of these I broke it open and downed it as fast as I could. And there wasn't even someone sitting there telling me it was safe." He took a second one from his pocket and held the two of them together. "Pick one."

Snape chose the one on the right, and waited until James had broken the neck of the remaining one and drained it, wincing slightly as though it was bitter. Then, after a pause, he followed suit.

He gagged and almost spit it back out, while James sat beside him and laughed. He had known every horrible-tasting potion and medicine that the hospital or his own lab had to offer; whether it was Skele-grow or energy potions or the anti-venom that he had become accustomed to taking. But this was ten times worse.

"That is by far the most _vile_ thing I have ever tasted," he sputtered, and James was almost crying with his laughter. And yet, after a moment, Snape began to feel the pain in his body lessen significantly. The bruising in his wrists began to dissipate as the other man had suggested would happen, and he could not help but feel marginally more energized and clear-headed. He tentatively clenched and unclenched his hand, and the movement seemed stronger and crisper than before. His headache was gone completely.

"I don't know _how_ they work exactly," said James, still smiling, "but I know they work."

"Well..." He curiously examined the broken glass in the light. "I suppose it's just a form of aggressive healing potion, perhaps with a high antimony content if the taste is anything to go by. Most likely there's quite a bit of valerian in there as well."

"What?"

Snape shook his head dismissively. "I used to teach potions, so you could say it's a specialty of mine." He glanced over to see the confused look in James' eye, and he made an awkward pause before muttering, "Oh, you're a Muggle."

"A what?"

"Chemistry," said Snape swiftly, standing up. "But my students used to call it potions and the medicine must have just thrown me for a loop. I'd best be going."

James gave a nonchalant shrug and nodded, before standing up as well. "You need to know where to go, don't you?" Snape realized this and almost blushed slightly; he couldn't help but be flustered by such a foolish mistake. But James noticed his discomfort and smiled, saying, "Don't worry. I've met stranger people." Snape nodded sheepishly and pulled out the map from his bag. He watched the other man's eyes glaze over the grid of streets.

"Here," he said, pointing to a small square not far from the park. "It's the church. Or, one of them at least. Years ago, the town was divided between them; the people belonging to one you're headed for ran everything."

"And the other people?"

"The members of the other church all died mysteriously."

"Wonderful." Snape folded up the map and put it back in his bag.

"Oh, and one more thing." From yet another pocket in his jacket he pulled out two boxes of bullets and handed them to him. "Don't ever be out of ammunition."

"Thank you." Snape pocketed the ammunition and was about to turn away when he stopped. "I don't suppose I have to pay you back in any way?"

"Maybe a cigarette, if you have one. You come across as a smoker." Snape nodded, rummaging around in his bag until he found the package. He offered it to James, who took one for his mouth and another for his pocket. "Many thanks."

Snape left in the direction that he came in, unwilling to pass by the pyramid creature that James had pointed out to him. The street stretched before him: empty and silent. The only movement in front of him was the meandering fog, and the only sound was that of his footsteps.

The idea that he too could become one with the town frightened Snape slightly, and suddenly the significance of his actions became very apparent to him. His thoughts fluttered back to the things he had done so far: he had cared for Charlotte, come to terms with Regulus, accepted Adelle's care. Each of these had earned a token of Lily's approval, and the weight of those objects in his bag gave Snape some kind of reassurance. He had to continue telling himself that he would speak to Lily. She was testing him, perhaps, but she would stay true to her promise. She had to.

Suddenly there was a crash from behind him, and Snape spun around to see two of the puppet creatures leap from a nearby bookstore and into the street. Snape fired twice, and each were easily avoided.

They came closer, the strings still drawing blood from their throats and wrists, and their robes still divided between black and blood-spattered white. But Snape also saw their faces, plates of rotted wood carved with solemn expressions. But then there was a series of clicking sounds, and it seemed as though one of them turned its head several angles to one side, revealing a new, grinning face. The second creature did the same.

They came almost within reach of him, and one threw out one of its strings towards him. He leaped backwards, and shot a bullet into the stringless arm. There was another series of clicks, and when Snape saw the monster's face again, there was an expression of anger carved into it.

His eyes widened as he saw it raise its arm to strike, and in a moment of panic he dropped to the ground. The monster lashed out with its other arm, the connected string racing forwards like a whip, and before it could stop itself there was a sound like tearing silk, and the other creature's head dropped from its body. In that moment, Snape aimed upward from his place on the ground and shot the remaining creature through the heart, sending a bloodspatter across the white portion of its robes. It fell, and Snape got to his feet, his hand already going to his bag in order to pull out more ammunition. James' warning was still fresh in his mind.

He startled as he heard a few more clicks at his feet, and the heads of the puppets shifted once more to depict sorrowful faces before they were still. Snape quickly made his exit towards the church.

He could see the steeple just around the corner, but when he turned he saw yet another one of the puppets in the fog. But it did not attack when it saw him, and instead Snape noticed that the anguished face was already set over its front. It moved slowly forward, its body weighing more heavily on the strings so that they cut more deeply into it. It let out a moan as it floated towards him, and Snape sent one shot straight into its head, dropping it like a stone. It seemed more akin to an act of mercy than anything else.

It began to make slightly more sense to him as he gave the corpse a wide berth, but he concentrated instead on the church in front of him. It unsettled him more than the puppet had, looming above him with white stone walls. He had not stepped foot in a church since he was very young, and since then he was rather convinced that he was not welcome, or would be smote the moment he came to the front stairs. But even as he ascended to the first step, nothing happened.

His eyes rose to the two statues on either side of the steps, stretching high to the church roof. They perhaps added to his discomfort, as they stood impassively with intricately carved cloaks obscuring their faces. They did not even have wings, which might have suggested a pair of welcoming angels. Instead, their heavy robes gave the impression of two gatekeepers ready to attack any newcomer.

He carefully opened the heavy wooden door, peering inside. There seemed to be nothing ominous about it; it was just a church, as he had seen with his mother when he had been very small. The doors closed behind him and he reverently proceeded up the aisle, still looking around in case there was anything lurking in the shadows. But it was empty, and it felt no more dangerous than the tranquil lakeside.

The first pew seemed to call to him, and he sat down with a small sigh of relief. It was nice to have somewhere so restful, he thought, especially after the nightmare he had just been through. This place was quiet and soothing.

A glimmer caught his eye, and he looked down at the seat next to him to see that some kind necklace had been left there... But it suddenly struck him as familiar. Despite the way that the emerald beads had become chipped and clouded with age, and the silver chain had been broken, he was able to recognize the rosary that had once belonged to Eileen. It had been so many years ago that he had last seen it, in a place not all too different from the one in which he found himself.

And he remembered. He remembered watching his mother pray, wondering why she bothered. Even so young, he still wondered why it was that she prayed so hard and had never been granted a single comfort. She clung to her rosary as she had clung to hope; but both were useless, and both left her unacknowledged. Of course, he had prayed too, when he was young. But unlike his mother, he stopped when he saw that it was no good.

God existed; he could feel that. But God would not do anything for him, as He had never done anything for his mother. To God, he was dead. His soul was meaningless.

The church had started to blur, and he clutched the rosary in his hand tighter. Words tumbled through his mind, speaking of lost souls and those who had fallen out of God's all-seeing eyes, words that had been spoken in a long-forgotten sermon. They dispersed suddenly, leaving a heavy silence. Then, a white light bloomed in his vision.

"_Severus?" came a voice. It was the most beautiful thing that Snape had ever heard; Lily's voice, ringing out as though from heaven. _

"_Lily? Is that you?" He could see an outline of an angel in the light, and he looked into it despite how its harshness burned his eyes. "I... I've gone through so much so see you and now I don't know what to say."_

"_You have nothing to say yet," she said, turning away. "Soon enough, when you are pure."_

"_But I..." He watched as she moved away from him. "Please... Don't leave me again."_

His head had drooped for a moment, and he snapped it back up and opened his eyes. He stood quickly, looking around him, but the church seemed to be empty. Then he realized what had woken him; from somewhere above him, the low, somber notes of the organ drifted down to him.

"Is anyone there?"

He reached for the gun in his pocket and then stopped himself; drawing the weapon in a place like this struck him as somewhat indecent, and so he merely settled for keeping his hand placed lightly on the grip. The music continued, and it suddenly dawned on him that it was the melody played by the music box that he carried with him. It beckoned to him, leading him to the back of the church and up the thin staircase that rose to the balcony. The door came upon him, and with a sharp inhale, he flung it open.

The music stopped. From where he stood, Snape could not see the organ bench; just the towering pipes that he had already seen from where he had been sitting. But the silence urged him forward, until he rounded the instrument completely. The sight caused his eyes to widen.

There had once been a statue sitting there, her skin a smooth, grey marble, her wings delicately carved. But now she had fallen across the keys, her body crumbling and covered in blood. On the floor he could see the shattered remains of her head.

He approached it slowly, examining the splayed, crumbling fingers on the keys, the dainty, crimson wrists and the folds of her robes that dripped with red. The stump of her neck bubbled slightly, and another swell of blood poured forth. But he reached out in spite of this, his hand trembling, and he brushed his own, whole fingers across her broken ones.

He jumped back as the statue quivered, and with a loud crack it continued to crumble until there was nothing left but a mound of dust turned muddy by the blood. And yet, something sparkled within it still, and Snape peered closer to see the rosary he had just left in the pew below. Only now it was whole, and the beads had reclaimed their bright luster. He doubted he would have accepted the token back in the pew by himself, but he could see clearly now that it was a direct offering to him. He examined it a moment longer before placing it in his pocket.

A tiny sound caught his ear as he returned to the staircase, and when he turned he saw one of the golden healing discs roll towards him from where the statue had been sitting. It knocked against the front of his left boot and fell to one side, leaving him to bend down to pick it up. He nodded, as though to thank the statue that was no longer or had never been alive, and then he quickly made his exit.

What he didn't notice as he left were two massive stone eyes, following his movements through the window.

Snape returned outside and sighed, thinking that perhaps James had made a mistake in sending him to the church. All he had to show for it was an old keepsake that he had no true use for...

He looked up suddenly, realizing that one of the hooded statues that had stood to one side of the stairs was now standing directly in front of him, in the middle of the street. His blood immediately ran cold, and his heart began to pound. He didn't dare move, hoping that maybe it was just a trick of his imagination. Maybe, he thought, he was still asleep in the church.

There was a rumbling sound as two separate sets of arms rose from the statue's sides and touched upon its head; the cloak that surrounded it crumbled away to dust, revealing its face.

He thought the face was featureless for a moment, and then he saw that it had a flat, snake-like nose. The stone then split where its mouth should have been, and a slender grin stretched across it.

"_Severus at my right," the Dark Lord hissed, gesturing with long, pallid hands to the seat beside him._

Then, impossibly quick, the neck twisted with a swish of stone and the other face appeared. There was a pair of half-moon spectacles carved onto the crooked nose, and below the thin smile fell an ornately detailed beard.

"_Severus at my right," the headmaster said gently, though his blue eyes held a mischievous glimmer as he looked towards the seat in question. _

In the same brutally fast movement, the four arms reached into the stone robe and pulled out four swords, each one raised and at the ready. There was a pause, and then it came for him.

He ran to the right in an attempt to dodge, but the monster was two stories tall and could consequently cover more space than he could. One sword crashed into the roof of the church, the second buried itself in the door, the third not a meter away from him on the stairs, and another swung just barely in front of him, sending him sprawling down the steps onto the pavement.

Sporting newly scraped hands and knees, he scrambled up and opened fire on the statue, emptying the chamber while it stood there watching. Two bullets chipped the side of Voldemort's face, another hit Dumbledore in the side of the nose, and three more landed in the blurry line between them. It didn't even flinch. There was a pause as he pulled the trigger again, and the empty click rang out.

It leapt again, and Snape dove behind one of the church's pillars. He still had the rosary in his hand, and he stared down at it as the blows rained down on the stone around him. "Do something," he hissed at it. The beads rattled as he gave it a desperate, angry shake, before letting out a hysteric moan of frustration. "That is it; I do _not_ like people named James!" It was not another moment before he was forced from his hiding place by a piece of rubble that had been cleaved from the church's roof.

He sprinted as fast as he could, and again one of the swords sent him flying to the ground. He threw himself aside just in time to avoid being crushed, and took refuge behind the other statue that had not come to life. James' words echoed in his head, and he tried to focus while the statue protecting him was taking a beating.

The town was about facing fears, he thought. "I have no master," he whispered. "Neither of them control me any longer." This was getting him nowhere. "You don't control me!" he yelled, but it was lost over the sound of smashing rock. Then he got an idea, which he thought may or may not kill him.

"This is completely idiotic."

He tore the pack of cigarettes from his bag and lit one with the lighter, shoving it into his mouth. Then, waiting until one of the swords had just struck the pavement beside him, he ran from his hiding place just barely out of reach of the statue.

"Dumbledore!" he yelled up at it. He took a large breath of the smoke and blew it out, allowing a haze to form around his head. "And V-" He willed himself to say it. "Voldemort!" He took another puff from the cigarette. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!"

The statue had paused to watch him as he did this, the head swiveling slowly as each took a turn to look. But then as he began to back up along the street, it came forward again and raised all four swords simultaneously. But as they conflicted, only one of them came through and its tip ripped across Snape's side, snapping his leg completely. He couldn't help but scream.

He lay there, attempting to breathe through the pain. It was over, he thought. His idea had been a desperate, stupid one after all, and what had worked all the way back in the school could not have honestly worked here. He heard the sound of crashing stone, and he shielded himself from the falling debris. But then he looked up to see a fifth sword plunged into the belly of the statue, and the second one stepped down from its pedestal. Its hood dissolved away to reveal a blank face, bearing no features whatsoever.

He blinked, and suddenly it came between himself and the other statue, grabbing the sword out with the sound of scraping rock. It began to parry the blows that had rained down unhindered on him before, and in the meantime two golden discs flew from the bottom of its robes towards him. He could see that his statue could not hold off the other one forever, and so he quickly set to work on his leg. But it was difficult to concentrate when he continued to look up, watching one of the four arms smash itself onto the ground as it was severed, or trying to dodge as a piece of his statue's robes was shattered away.

In another minute, when it seemed as though his statue could no longer hold its position, Snape stumbled to his feet and hissed as he put too much pressure on his leg. But one of the swords reached past his statue and narrowly missed him, sending him running down the street with a crazed, hobbling gait. Each step sent spears of intense pain through him, and he clenched his teeth together and tried to ignore it.

He turned the corner, continuing down the long stretch of asphalt. From not far behind her could hear the crashing of stone as the two statues fought, and he could see the tips of their swords as they were raised above the surrounding rooftops.

A figure appeared in the distance, and he tried to run faster as he recognized it as Adelle. She was just standing there, looking blankly at him and at the statues that battled not far behind him. He came upon her and grabbed her arm. "Let's go!" he shouted, but she seemed almost dazed.

Just then the siren began to sound again, and already Snape could feel the Dark Mark prickling on his arm.

"What happened you your leg?" she asked, her words oddly low and muddled.

"Broke it," he growled, tears of pain clouding his vision. "Now what are you standing here for!"

He had hoped to have her help him, but in instead he was the one dragging her forward as the nightmare world began to race towards them across the landscape. Buildings crumbled and their windows seeped blood; the pavement turned to rusted metal and the sky turned red. The stench returned, and the abandoned cars trembled as they fell to pieces. It reached the spot where the two statues had been fighting, not more than half a block from where Snape and Adelle had made it to, and they froze in place as they began to turn black and crumble. It seemed from such a distance that Snape's statue was in slightly better condition.

The siren stopped, as though it had finished consuming the entire town.

Snape let go of Adelle and allowed himself to slump to the ground, almost whimpering with the pain as he reached for one of the healing discs in his bag. His wand came out as well, and he continued to wave it over the bones in his leg. Adelle hadn't even given him a glance, and was instead staring into the chaos around her, her eyes wide with terror. Her gaze followed the flames that licked the side of a distant building, rising up into the air and smothering it in smoke and ash.

"This is the end," she murmured, after a few minutes. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she looked down at Snape, who had moved on to heal the scrapes on his palms. "This... This is Hell, isn't it?"

"Nonsense," he said dryly, picking himself up. He bounced slightly on the healed leg, checking for stability, and nodded when he found that it was sore, but useable.

But Adelle shook her head. "I... I deserved this." It was silent save for the crackling of flames, and Snape approached her hesitantly.

"Ms. Branston?"

"I knew it when I came here; I knew deep down what would happen in the end. But I also knew that running away would just postpone it, and I knew..." She let out a choked sob. "I knew I deserved it." With a limp hand, she gestured down to the ground around them, where the solid metal stopped and the grating began; beneath it, a sea of fire stretched out, burning eternally. "That's where I belong."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, coming up beside her. But to his surprise, she drew away. He watched her cry for a moment before speaking again. "Ms. Branston," he said firmly. "I saw those monsters of yours; you carry guilt because of patients who died under your care, is that not correct? Perhaps you were in that battle yourself and you killed others. But you mustn't blame yourself. I know I..." He paused. "I watched people die. I'm responsible for many deaths myself; you know that. And only recently have I... I feel as though it's unfair to burden myself with the full blame. I have done terrible things in my time, but some of them I must let go of."

There was quiet again.

"Enough of this," he snapped. "I know what I was fighting for; it was not always selfless, but it was good. There was honor in it, and you are no different. You fought for your home and your friends and your family and you fought for love as much as everyone else. You fought for the Light at every moment, and that is more than I can say."

"Oh?" It had come out as a breath, laced with indifference and defeat. "You don't know me. You don't know the first thing about me."

"Ms. Branston..." He came up to her again, daring himself to put a hand on her shoulder. "What did you see in the hospital?"

"_Don't touch me!_" Snape quickly backed away. "I'm... I'm a murderer. There. There, I said it!" She screamed her words to the rooftops above her. "Is that what you wanted to hear!" She spun back around towards Snape, her tears dripping from eyes filled with pain and hatred. "I killed my uncle," she spat, pausing as though to wait for a reaction. "I killed him in cold blood! He was in my ward at the hospital and I switched his medicine out for poison like a cowardly sneak."

"Why?" There was no tone of accusation in his voice, no judgment.

"Why! Because I..." She choked again and turned away, falling to her knees. "Because I'm a horrible, soulless _monster_!" Snape closed his eyes, listening to the way in which she wept, and the sound was familiar.

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

"He didn't get _half_ of what he deserved!" she cried, slamming her fists down on the metal beneath her. "That disgusting, sadistic, perverted, sick _pig_!" Her sobs filled the air, and Snape moved to kneel in front of her. She only pulled out her gun, aiming it at him with rage and agony twisting her features.

"There's no point in shooting me," he said calmly. "It will only burden you with more guilt." It wavered, but she did not move. But then something occurred to Snape that had previously escaped his notice.

"The Branston family was a very affluent one, isn't it? Not old, pureblood money, but the new upper Wizarding class."

"My parents are dead," she whispered. "He killed them. I know it. He wanted everything..." Snape had taken hold of the gun and was pulling it away from her; it fell weakly from her grasp. "All I had was my little house, and then it was his. He ate at my table, he..." Her voice cracked. "He slept in my bed. And there was nothing I could do. And now..." She shook her head, hiding her face in her hands and crumpling to the ground. "And now I have to pay for it. I _should_ pay for it." Her body began to tremble with her sobs. "Why can't I just die!"

Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out the rosary he had found, looking at it for a moment. Then he took Adelle's hand and pried it open, slipping the shining beads into her palm. "It was my mother's," he said quietly. "But I expect you would value it more than I."

And as she lay curled on the ground, the rage left her eyes and was replaced with sorrow as if the madness had lifted. But she continued to cry. "I want to give up."

"Not yet," said Snape. "If you had let me give up in the hospital every time I wanted to, I think I would be dead several times over."

"But that's why you hated me. I kept you trapped..."

"Ms. Branston." He bent to pull her back upright, though she wilted bonelessly in his arms. "Enough of this. You are trapped _now_, in this town. Your goal at the moment is to get out, and the only way to do so is to move forward." He gave her a small shake, forcing her to look at him. "Do you understand me!"

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, and he allowed her this comfort for quite some time. Then she finally pulled back with a nod, and he helped her to her feet before offering the gun back. "Am I able to give this back to you or are you going to shoot me in the face?"

"No, I..." She nodded and timidly accepted it. "I'm sorry, I... I don't know what came over me."

"It's the town," he said gravely. "It's affecting your judgment. Don't worry yourself; I believe it's done the same to me." He paused, his brow furrowing. "I feel as though I'm tottering between being stronger than I have ever been in my life... And falling into a dark and incurable madness."

"The madness sounds fairly accurate right now," murmured Adelle, who had again taken to looking at their surroundings. Then, "Severus?"

Something about the panicked tone of her voice frightened him. "What's wrong?"

"Look."

Snape followed her line of vision as it skimmed across the horizon. Sure enough, it became apparent to him that the two of them were standing on the only piece of solid metal in the area, and that it formed a perfect circle within the grating and hellfire beneath. They backed further away from the edge, standing in the center, and then they realized that there seemed to be pentagram like the one outside the hospital carved under their feet. There was a screech of metal, and the edges of the circle began to fall into darkness.

Adelle reached for Snape's hand, and he took hers tightly. "I don't think we're going to die, at least," he muttered down to her wryly. She tried to look angry at his sarcasm, but she only managed to look more frightened. "We should jump."

"What!"

Their eyes met, and he pulled her towards the quickly advancing edge. "Prepare yourself." There was a pause before she nodded, and they charged towards the opening, plunging into the emptiness.

...

Adelle opened her eyes first, blinking a few times to clear her vision. Snape was still unconscious beside her, but she was reassured by how his breathing seemed steady. She stood, and then paled immediately, grasping blindly for her gun.

She was in the kitchen of her home, only it had been altered by the nightmare just as every other scene before it had. The blood, the rust, the smell of death. Her fingers brushed the rotting chair at the table, but she jumped back as a voice rang out around her.

"_Oh, I'll just stay for a little while," he said. "It's so sad... Barely out of school, just starting out..."_

_Adelle had sat in the chair with tears in her eyes, trying to process what was happening. "I... What am I going to do?"_

"_Don't worry..." He had come behind her and put what had seemed like a benevolent hand on her shoulder. "I'll just help you get back on your feet; I'll handle the will and the monetary responsibilities... You just work on being a nice, pretty young lady."_

"_Alright..." She wiped her tears with her sleeve until the man pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. "I appreciate the help. I mean, I barely know you..."_

"_Well, your father and I had a falling out when we were young but that..." He had turned to look out the window, so she did not see his greasy smile. "That's behind us now. All I want to do is help his daughter."_

He was there, on the other side of the room. His face was purple with death and yet his eyes were as alive as ever. His features were twisted in rage.

"You bitch," he hissed, and started towards her. She let out a cry of pure panic and fear, firing her gun at him. There was a blur that rippled in his chest, and the bullet passed through.

"Severus!" Adelle retreated back to where he lay and began to shake him violently. "Severus, wake up please, wake up!" He began to mutter to himself, and all the while the man drew closer and closer to her, his heavy boots clunking against the kitchen tile. "SEVERUS, PLEASE!"

He opened his eyes just as she dissolved into tears again, clutching desperately at his sleeve. "Make him go away," she whimpered. "Please..."

"What are you talking about?" he mumbled, propping himself on an arm in order to look around. Then his eyes widened. "Oh no."

"I told you, don't you see! I-" She had stood up and spun around to aim the gun at him again, but she found herself looking into thin air. In fact, she was no longer in her kitchen at all, but instead at the back at some kind of church. Granted, it was still covered with blood and rust, but she stared unbelievingly out at the scene until she heard Snape get up behind her.

She followed his gaze until she realized what had upset him so. At the front of the church was a large painting, depicting a woman in flowing white robes. She had flaming orange hair and brilliant green eyes, and her arms were outstretched over the scene around her: blue skies and a sea of lilies at her feet.

"I..." She shook her head. "This isn't what it was before. He was there in my kitchen and..." Snape ignored her, walking up the aisle as though he was being hypnotized by the painting. Adelle was still trying to shake her own vision from her eyes, but she soon caught up to him. "Is that her?" she asked quietly.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Well, yes..." She had been looking at the structure around them, with barbed wire running up the columns, massive white candles leaving mounds of wax below them, the altar that held a number of dastardly-looking things, including a still-beating heart. Snape noticed none of this.

"It's strange, though," he said. Adelle looked at him, thinking that he had come to his senses. "She doesn't have any wings. I thought her to be an angel and yet... Perhaps she is God?"

She nodded to herself, her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. "Severus... Maybe Lily _is_ God to you."

This seemed to snap him out of his trance, and his mouth fell open a little as he pondered this. It made his feelings in the other church a little more reasonable. "God is..." He paused, thinking for another moment so as to put his thoughts as eloquently as he could. "God is a concept: that we will be granted salvation and mercy. The God as He is commonly known has never offered either of those things to me, while in my mind Lily has come to embody both. She has..." He had come to the front of the church, and he touched his hand upon the altar. "She has offered me the promise of forgiveness; salvation from my sins. And when I was young, before I fell from her favor, I had always thought that achieving a life with her would be my equivalent of coming into Paradise. Therefore, my existence has always revolved around her will, in this world or the next. I have lived my life in her name, giving up all comforts in an attempt to always remind myself of who I serve."

"So... You were like her priest."

"I suppose one might think like that. So yes, if that's what you were wondering." He met her eyes, the look on his face restrained and solemn. "Lily _is_ my God."

It was quiet for a few minutes as Snape continued to gaze upon Lily's image, illuminated in white light. But Adelle broke the silence. "I don't understand something," she said quietly. It was as if she was afraid of what he might do if she spoke her mind. "God is merciful, and quick to forgive. And yet..." She gestured around to the room. "Look at what she's doing to you. She brought you to this town as punishment, to _hurt_ you. And the God _I_ know does not require the sacrifice of a whole _life_ for the forgiveness of just one mistake. Lily is a _terrible_ God."

"You will not speak of her like that." Snape had not shouted, had not even turned on her, but the tone of his voice was just as bitter, just as dangerous.

"I just want to know how it's possible to love someone after they've caused you so much pain."

It was quiet for a moment, before Snape spoke again. There was only a hint of the vehemence that she had heard earlier, but his voice remained somber and resolute. "I am going to find her," he said firmly. "And I will speak with her. After that, my life is at her disposal, and she may do what she pleases with it." He started for the door that had appeared to his right, and then he paused and looked back. After a moment's hesitance, he held out his arm. "However, if you would like to accompany me further, I am not unwelcome to it."

She nodded, and reached out to take his hand. "Do you have any more healing discs?" she asked gently, as though asking if he wanted a glass of water before bed.

"Keep them for yourself," he replied in the same manner. But she nonetheless pulled out two from her purse and slipped them into his bag.

They opened the door and entered together.

It closed behind them softly, and they found themselves in a circular room, The air was heavy with the smell of rot, and the metal grating of the walls and floor was covered in blood and bits of flesh. All around them there were masses of bandaged corpses hanging from the ceiling, and Adelle was first to cock her gun. Snape had taken to examining the doors that interrupted the wall lattice, and he counted at least eight.

He was about to say something when suddenly the corpses began to tremble and the bandages shifted as the creatures stretched inside. Almost immediately Adelle aimed and fired at one of them, and the entire mass began to scream and writhe harder as circles of fresh blood began to form and dribble downwards.

"Do you _always_ wait this long to shoot!" she almost shouted, and three more shots rang out as she targeted another creature that was just beginning to emerge. It went still, and after another moment Snape followed suit.

"I like to examine my options first," he said, loud enough for her to hear over the tearing of cloth, the screaming, the groaning, and the blasts of gunfire.

"It's a wonder you haven't been killed." Her tone was reproachful, and it reminded him vaguely of McGonagall telling him off as a schoolboy, or perhaps of his mother telling him to put on a scarf on cold mornings. "You can't think like that here; haven't you noticed? You shoot first and then _examine_ the thing when it's _dead_."

They were running out of time; many of the bloody, grotesque masses of flesh had emerged from their fetid cocoons, and were approaching faster than Snape or Adelle could shoot them down. Her words became more urgent.

"Don't you think that's your problem? Cover me, I need to reload." Snape shot a monster that was getting too close, and then he heard Adelle's gun click shut behind a new round. "You think about everything too much. What would happen if you just did something spontaneously? The war is over now, so couldn't- _shit_!"

She dodged a monster that had lunged for her, and Snape shot it at point blank range. But the horde seemed endless, and Snape was almost dizzied by their sheer numbers. And then the room began to spin in earnest. The doors flew open, and Snape reached for Adelle's hand... But he couldn't find it.

The room was pulling him in another direction, and he heard Adelle's scream followed by another gunshot. She was reaching for him as well, and this was the last thing he saw before being sucked backwards through one of the doorways, into the darkness, and away from Adelle.


	8. The Otherworld

Sorry for the delay! For me, it's been counseling for summer camp and then straight off to college. Anyway, this is the last chapter before the multiple endings. The "Good+" ending is canon as far as the story is concerned, but the others will feature flashbacks to fill in some of the alternate choices Snape might have made during his time in Silent Hill. Thank you!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Seven<span>

It was pitch black when Snape opened his eyes. He groaned as he picked himself up from the floor, his hand immediately going to the switch of his torch. The light revealed only a narrow hallway, the metal fencing on the walls disrupting the otherwise endless darkness. There was nothing but that metal; blackness on the floor and ceiling and walls, as far as he could see. Adelle was nowhere to be found.

Snape stepped forward, the heel of his boot clattering dully on the floor. His footsteps resonated throughout the hall as he moved, and it provided an almost unbearable air of isolation. But after a few minutes, a flash of color appeared on the edge of his torch beam. Emerald green.

He approached it carefully, and saw a small tuft of grass struggling to grow between the metal links. He looked curiously back up at the hall, and his eyes widened. A few more paces ahead of him, a larger patch had grown in the middle of the floor, and in its center grew a large, white Lily of the Valley. This time he moved forward more carefully, with an added hint of reverence in his step.

But just as he was about to bend down to touch it, the melody from the music box began to drift down the hallway, and the sound was given an unsettlingly ethereal quality by the way it echoed off the walls. And yet, as Snape went to pull the same music box out of his bag, he was startled to see that it was still firmly closed. He took a breath to compose himself before passing the lily altogether and following the music that seemed to originate at the opposite end of the corridor.

In another minute he began to hear soft laughter, though he could not say for sure that it was Lily's. He realized that it was the laughter of children that floated to him through the notes of music, and it seemed to be getting louder as he walked. But then a door appeared in the darkness, and he saw what seemed to be puddles of grass leading to a larger patch of green reaching through the crack underneath the door. The laughter grew louder still, and it was then that he recognized it as his own laughter, mingled with Lily's. He reached out for the doorknob, and thrust the door open.

Fresh air washed over him, and he found himself bathed in light. He stepped into a grassy field, closing the door behind him, and he looked around with a look of awe on his face. A summer breeze wafted through the grass, swaying the lilies that grew there. Clouds of white floated lazily through an endless sea of blue sky.

He looked to his right and saw the source of the laughter; he had seen a fleck of red hair dart over the next hill, a bit of black with it.

"Wait!"

This had to be some kind of trick, he thought, but then after a moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He followed the children as they wove in and out of his line of vision, trying desperately to catch up to them, to take hold of what he had lost. But the peals of laughter and the stray bars of their favorite songs began to grow softer, replaced by a strange crackling sound. The smell of the lilies became fainter as well, replaced by the smell of fire and ash. Snape finally stopped, out of breath, and anxiously turned to see what lay behind him.

At that moment, he feared that perhaps Adelle had been right about Hell. Behind him the field had turned black, and the sky was red with the flames that leaped up in pools of fire. The air trembled as it suddenly grew hot, and the smell of soot and sulfur became almost unbearable. The hellfire suddenly overtook him, and when he turned again the green of the field was nowhere to be found. Only a single beam of light pierced through the chaos.

Snape made his way to it with his nose buried in the crook of his arm, his body thrust forward as though the heat was physically making the air too thick to move through. He had seen, even for a moment, Lily's form fluttering in and out of solidity within the light. And then she was there, facing outwards towards the dystopia.

Her hair matched the flames around her in hue, but everything else seemed calm and whole. The grass and the flowers flourished at her feet and her robe almost glistened with its whiteness.

"Lily!"

She did not move, but her form grew further away from him, ghosting across the surface of the flaming landscape. It seemed that no matter how fast Snape ran, she was always keeping just ahead of him. The smoke was burning his eyes, sending rivulets of tears down his cheeks, and his chest heaved with the effort as he tried to keep running.

Suddenly she seemed to stop moving and he came upon her in an instant, so close that he was able to reach out and touch her.

Something lashed out at him, just as the light vanished and the image of a ghastly creature filled his view. It was the scabby flesh of a dementor's mouth, the serpentine features of Nagini, Lily's own face almost unrecognizable due to its deathly decay. Her scream filled his ears, falling on him like a heavy blow to the face, and in the next moment he found himself slammed down onto a metal floor.

Snape looked up wildly, searching for the creature, but the hallway was dark and silent.

It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he pulled himself to his feet. Just as he did, however, he felt something brush the back of his neck: something that felt like a woman's cold, dead fingers.

He let out a yelp and spun around to see the same painting of Lily that had hung in the church, only this one had real arms stuck to where her elbows ended, giving the impression that she was reaching out for something. He could see the blood spatters ringing the severed trunks of both arms, and it sent shivers down his spine. Next to the painting, after Snape managed to wrench his eyes from it, hung a small plaque with another riddle.

_Give to me_

_with humbled eyes _

_your heart of gold_

_your treasured prize._

_Give to me_

_what I desire_

_my happy dagger_

_my funeral pyre._

"Heart of gold, treasured prize…" Snape reached into his bag and pulled out the music box he had found in the Evans' household, before attempting to put in in the portrait's grasp. It tottered on the cold palm, and he had to catch it as it fell, rejected. The same happened with the locket, and the plastic ring did not fit properly on any of the fingers. Snape flinched as he removed it; the flesh was certainly dead, and almost a little sticky with decay.

The sound of a movement drove Snape to turn again, and he shone the light into the empty hallway behind him. He glanced once more at the riddle to commit it to memory before following after what sounded like a pattering of small feet. A small shadow darted in and out of his sight, and his mind flickered back to the children he had just seen in the field.

A glitter on the floor caught his attention, and a refocusing of his eyes revealed it to be a heart-shaped piece of gold about the size of his palm. This seemed to be a bit too easy, he thought, and he carefully stepped towards where it lay some ten or so meters away. Another step.

There was an ear-piercing crash, and Snape let out a shout of surprise as two creatures burst through the metal walls and landed in his path. Strangely, he was certain he had seen this breed of monster once before, all the way back when he had first arrived in town. The grey, rotting figures seemed trapped in a straightjacket of their own flesh, writhing against it in an attempt to break free. When they stepped forward it was with a pained lurch, as though this skin caused them pain.

The first one lurched at him, and Snape ducked out of the way as he aimed a bullet towards the second one. He hit it dead on, earning him a horrible screech akin to the cries of a dying animal. But it still would not go down, and he had to leap past it in an attempt to avoid its next charge.

Though Snape had only taken his eyes from the heart for a few moments, he saw the form of a child dart between the legs of the monsters and snatch it up, clutching it to its chest before taking off again. This confusion threw one of the monsters off balance, and the two collided as they attempted to come after him again. He took this opportunity to fire two more shots, one of which pierced the head of the first creature, then the second. There was a scream before they collapsed into a gruesome pile of skeletal limbs, allowing Snape to chase after the child.

He reloaded the gun as he ran, trying to catch up but also keeping his eyes and ears open to the approach of any other monsters. Instead, he noticed the pieces of parchment that had begun to accumulate, forming papery scales along the wall. Their numbers quickly grew, and Snape was only a little out of breath before they covered the walls completely. By then the child- who had stayed constantly in front of him no matter how quickly he followed it- had found a doorway to escape into, leaving Snape in the hall with a sharp bang of the door.

He was about to continue his pursuit when something familiar caught his eye: perhaps a diagram or a line of text on one of the pages. He took a step closer to inspect it further, and found that it was a worn page of _Advanced Potion-Making_. In fact, it seemed that several copies of the book had been torn apart and used to randomly wallpaper the hall. However, this did not worry Snape until he examined the door a bit more closely; it seemed to take the shape of an oversized book cover, the dark leather similar to the notebooks and encyclopedias that Snape had once used in his youth.

He found the doorhandle and entered.

The pattering of the child's footsteps was still audible, and so Snape hurried down the dusty staircase. But as he entered the corridor, he saw the door at the opposite end bang shut behind the boy, leaving him alone with the misty grey light and the echoes of his footsteps.

As he passed through, Snape couldn't help but glance at the pages that surrounded him. Some of them were pages from his own potions book, at first affectionately named the "Prince book", while others seemed to be taken from his private notebooks. All of them, however, included only harmless endeavors. The potions were trivial things- mixtures to remove warts or induce fits of giggling- while the spells he had been working on were basic bits of handiwork to either warm a pair of mittens or mend socks. They were trifles, really; meant as a distraction and an outlet for extra energy.

The door led him down another staircase, though the mediocre light that had illuminated the first had dimmed significantly. A slammed door suggested that the child was further ahead than he had been before, but another sound made Snape slow his descent into the next hall.

It took three shots to kill the first monster he saw, as it thrashed about in its bodily prison. Each bullet ripped it open with a new spurt of blood, but it seemed to almost lean into these attacks, emanating a hatred for the flesh that contained it. A second creature stepped over the corpse of the first, and Snape emptied the chamber of the gun in its direction.

This one was different: quicker and a bit top-heavy. Its hands appeared to be fused to its head, though its arms still struggled against their fleshy confinement as though trying to escape. It gave a terrible scream as it fell, and in its last moments it looked much like a person dying of a headache, or perhaps falling into a mortal insanity. It landed with a thud and was still.

When Snape was sure there was no more danger, he paused to examine the walls, seeing as they were different than the ones he had seen earlier. Some of the pages had been spattered with blood from the monsters, but most were legible. He saw countless notes he had made on the science of Occulmency, including whole paragraphs from books of philosophy and psychology. The hallway grew narrower as the notes became more intense and crowded, as though mimicking the tightening psyche of the man who had created them.

But despite this, there were still signs of other magic being researched. The mappings of the _Langlock_ curse were written out here, as well as other boyish, silly charms. Yet even these had an underlying tone of aggression.

Footsteps from the nearby staircase reminded him that he was chasing the first key piece, and so he left the hallway behind and descended further into the depths of whatever twisted realm the town had created here.

He set another round of bullets into the gun as he came into the hall; immediately an unbearable feeling of anger and resentment blanketed him, almost heavy enough to physically knock the air from his lungs. There was a howl of rage, and the banging, metallic footfalls warned Snape just in time to jump out of the way. One of the straightjacketed monsters barreled by him, and turned almost instantly to charge again.

His first shot missed and buried itself in the wall, while the second ricocheted off the metal floor. He did not dodge quick enough, and the creature caught him by the arm as he passed. The gun made a worrying clatter on the ground as it fell from his grasp.

Snape automatically pulled the worn axe from his belt and lashed out with it, catching the creature somewhere in its torso. He dodged again as it threw itself at him in a blind rage, and the spray of blood that came with the next swing signaled that he had hit it again. It fell to the floor as it gave a menacing snarl, too stubborn to die. The next strike spit the creature's head in two, and it ceased to move.

It was silent, though the oppressive aura remained. Snape hesitantly went to look at the papered walls, and he tore down one of the pages to examine it more closely. It held the various attempts to create the more sinister cousins of the _Levicorpus_ hex, as though the original had not been cruel enough. One attempt had involved violently throwing the victim back and forth as they dangled, while another involved terrible pain in the victim's ankles. None of these were successful, much to the younger Snape's irritation.

But the anger that radiated from the room was not the same as this, and it took Snape a moment to realize that the rest of these pages contained his innumerable alterations on love potions in particular. He had wrathfully broken more glass vials than he could count, hating the brew for failing and hating himself for trying. He had attempted the unthinkable, fueled by loneliness and at times a primal, sexual frustration.

There had been so much of that frustration, with no way to release it.

Suddenly, with a sense of panic, Snape knew what the next hall would hold. Het out a breath and tried to calm himself using the Occlumency that had taken such a prominent role in the corridor previous.

There was yet another set of narrow stairs, leading downwards into the darkness. Snape wondered how far he had traveled by now; a mile, maybe? More? There had been so many steps, sinking deeper and deeper into this abyss.

There was a cry of panic from somewhere in the hall below, and Snape raced down the rest of the stairs towards it. There was an inhuman screech, a clang of metal, a quick scurrying of small feet, and the distant slamming of the door. Snape reached the bottom step to face a wall of darkness, and a tense, eerie silence. The air was heavy with the smell of stale ink, and he could tell that the floor was sticky with it.

He entered cautiously, keeping his gun ready. He knew that there was something lurking in the shadows, though exactly what form it would take he wasn't sure. He was only certain that whatever it was, it would be incredibly lethal.

A bodily thump made him spin around and fire into the dark, and an ear-piercing shriek signaled that he had hit something. There was a red glow, illuminating a humanoid form, but two more bullets extinguished the light. There was another thump, this time heavier, and Snape shone the light to reveal the remains of a creature slumped on the floor. Its torso was little more than a spine and a pair of hollow ribs; it seemed that its belly and large chunks of the rest of it had been ripped away.

Snape hoped that was the end of it. He turned, making every attempt to avoid looking at the walls, but he found himself glancing at them despite himself. The handwriting had become particularly manic in some places, and some failed incantations had been violently crossed out. A few of the pages were in tatters, ripped to pieces by irritable, impatient hands.

He had been searching for the curse that he had cast on that afternoon after the O.W.L.S. examination: the one that had left a neat little scar on James Potter's right cheek. It had not been an established or well-controlled curse at the time, of course, but Snape wanted to return to that corner of his magic and harness that power. He wanted the ability to cause such harm at will.

And so he began to practice. He studied other bits of Dark magic- for magic fueled by such hatred could only be Dark- and tried to calculate the exact words and motions that would yield the results he desired. But this was not effective enough. At last he had taken to simply standing just within the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest, channeling his anger into frenzied swings of his wand. That is, until one day when there was a flash of light and he saw a hulking chunk of a tree truck cleaved from its roots. The thunk of the wood against the frozen ground was so satisfying that a cruel smile danced over his thin lips, and he knew he had found the one.

Snape suddenly let out a scream of agony as a searing pain erupted down his back. He turned to see another one of the creatures behind him, the red orb of dull light radiating from its empty ribcage. As if on cue, the light sprung forth, slashing off a large piece of the howling monster's shoulder. He could not help but be mesmerized by its deadly dance, each new slice earning it another tortured wail. But then it came for him.

"_Sectumsempra_."

He ducked out of the way, watching as the curse streaked by him. In the red illumination he could see another creature pull itself from the shadows, its ribs crackling as they stretched. Another dodge as the curse returned, taking off another hunk of the monster as it did.

In the few precious seconds in which the creature prepared its next attack, Snape aimed and put four consecutive bullets into its head. The curse hurtled out from the corpse just before it fell, and he had to throw himself downward to avoid it. He let out a groan as he hit the floor; the gash in his back was deep, and he could feel the blood running down the length of his spine.

The displaced curse bounced furiously off the walls, tearing pages as it went, and missed Snape only narrowly before hitting the remaining monster full on in the chest. He only heard the gurgling splatter as the grey flesh was ripped to pieces.

It was still, and Snape took a moment to breathe before reaching into his bag for a healing disc. The wound was difficult to reach, but he was able to cast the spell in the general area. But this was not his typical healing spell; this one was different, and sounded like a song.

He had created the healing spell later, during his long nights spent in his dungeon chambers. Surely if _Sectumsempra_ had been born from anger, then _Vulnera_ _Sanentur_ had been born from remorse.

It was meant to be beautiful. The incantation rolled off the tongue with an impeccable sense of elegant linguistics, an imitation perhaps of Lily's own elegance or feminine decorum. And though the words translated to the practical, "may the wounds be healed", the true meaning was at its essence, "_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_".

Snape could no nothing more than pick himself up and keep moving.

Yet another long flight of stairs. His footsteps echoed emptily on each metal step, and the pitch blackness of the air left him with a distinct sense of paranoia. He shone the light around him as much as possible, never keeping his back on one direction for too long.

There was a whispering that filled Snape's ears, steadily growing louder as he descended. Something about this corridor was even darker and more sinister than the one before it. Indeed, all of the anger that had so thoroughly permeated the room before had been sealed away, locked up in this prison cell. These were the whispers of the _Muffliato_ charm, though Snape could see the more advanced Occulmency notes lining the walls.

The whispers were enough to drive a person mad. They murmured his regrets, his desires and fears; though the words themselves created a tension as they fought against their mental restraints. On sleepless nights, this had been the state of his mind: a constant struggle between his vie for control, and his internal screaming for justice and release. These were the voices that fueled his self-loathing, his desire to make others feel the same pain. And perhaps, in inflicting this pain, it became another way of hurting himself as well.

This hall needed no monsters. The town had no need to create such things; they already existed within him.

Snape shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was here for a reason, he reminded himself, and the way forward was clear. He stepped into the darkness below, keeping his gun cocked and ready. Although he had been following what looked like a child, he knew how quickly this could change. But he stowed it away when he came to the landing.

Sitting on the inky, paper-lined floor was a small boy with a pale face hidden behind a curtain of black hair. He looked up when Snape approached him, and his dark eyes widened with fear before he scurried away from him. Snape could see that this young version of himself was still clutching the golden heart to his chest.

"I would like that back, please," he said hesitantly, gesturing towards the heart.

"You can't have it!" The voice was high-pitched and wavering with terror. "It's… It's too dangerous out there."

"But I've killed all the monsters."

This seemed like the wrong thing to say, as the child sprung up and darted towards the other end of the small room. He stood hunched in the corner, trying to protect the heart with as much of his gangly body as possible. But something in his eyes recalled a memory in Snape's mind: the look of fear in his eyes as he came face-to-face with his father. A monster.

"I… _I'm_ not a monster," Snape said.

"Yes you are! You're going to break it! You're… You're going to hurt…" But the boy could not finish his sentence, and had instead taken to whimpering softly in the darkness.

"_You're going to hurt me._" That was what the child had meant to say, Snape knew. He had to take a moment to think about what exactly he was being faced with here; his childhood innocence, perhaps?

Again, he found himself able to puzzle out the intentions of the town, though they hit him like a fist to the stomach. He knew of course that this place represented the innards of the Prince book, and the magic he had immersed himself in during his sixth year at Hogwarts. But it had also revealed something that he had not noticed before- either because he had been too absorbed in it at the time, or had not given it much thought since.

The progression. The magic had started as a healthy outlet, and progressed into something much more sinister: an internal tomb, a damnation of sorts. The work became a way to cultivate his feelings of anger and hatred and frustration. But why had he fled to these emotions? Surely because they were the only things potent enough to mask the hungry pangs of loneliness and regret. He had allowed the Dark magic to consume him, to drive out his innocence and earnestness and all of the softer feelings of care and compassion that held too many painful memories. He had indeed buried this child inside the Prince book, and the countless notebooks with their hateful curses and poisons. In truth, he had assumed this child was dead, smothered by the pages.

"I won't hurt you," Snape said at last.

"Yes you will. You're a bad person."

Was he a bad person? Snape couldn't keep himself from wondering. He had banished his human tenderness, leaving behind a dry, callous husk, mimicking a man that no longer existed and perhaps never had. He had gone from child to this monster, and so there was no real "Snape the man" to be considered. But was he truly _bad_? Evil?

A memory flitted through Snape's mind, and he was astonished to recognize the voice of Sirius Black, sounding through a few words that had come from the mind of the man's godson. "_You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to_," Sirius Black had told the boy. "_Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us._"

And indeed, Snape knew he had fallen prey to that darkness. He had been seduced by it, body and mind. But what had his original intentions been? Hadn't he wished to impress Lily with some kind of social status? Hadn't he wished to pull himself from his lowly beginnings, and one day be as confident and popular as James Potter? But that had gone awry; there was no denying that. His intentions had not remained so innocent, not after he had started his dabbling in the Prince book.

He had been confused and angry. He had made poor decisions, and had hurt far too many people. But that did not make him inherently "bad".

Snape took hold of the thick string that held the torch around his neck and pulled it over his head. He made a careful step towards the young Snape, and held it out. "Here," he said gently. "Take this." The child did not move. "It's alright. I can lead you out of this place. You've been down here a long time, haven't you?"

Slowly, tempted by the promise of an escape, the child Snape rose and stepped forward. He reached out with his free hand and accepted the light. "We can get out that way," he said, pointing towards a staircase that had appeared just behind them. "But only if you promise. You have to promise…"

"I promise I won't hurt you. I…" He paused, lowering his eyes to the floor. "I've hurt enough people already. I can't do it anymore."

With a solemn nod, the child took his hand and led him to the staircase. They took the first step together.

It was quiet as they ascended, save for their joined footsteps. The stairwell grew wider again, and the stale smell of ink disappeared. Snape noticed that as they rose, the parchment that had covered the walls was crumbling away, dissolving into ash with a soft, dusty crackling; like a last breath. They climbed for a full fifteen minutes, though Snape had to pause midway to rest for a moment or two. The child waited patiently, the suspicion slowly fading from his eyes.

At last they came to the top, and Snape allowed himself and the boy back into the main hallway. The door closed behind them, the back cover of a leather binding.

"May I have that heart now?" he asked the boy. But no sooner than he'd asked, the young Snape began to disappear, his image growing fainter until only the golden heart remained suspended in the air. The torch fell to the floor with a brittle clunk. He retrieved both of these things and replaced the light around his neck. But for a moment he held the heart, contemplating the childhood idealism that seemed to be contained within it.

He let out a slow, steady exhale, as though to mentally prepare himself for whatever came next. And sure enough, just as he did so, a distant sound echoed through the iron walls. It was crying perhaps, though its pitch seemed almost too low for that. A passageway had opened up to Snape's left, and so he followed it into the darkness.

There was only that black isolation again.

A crunch beneath Snape's feet made him look down, and he realized that the metal flooring was slowly turning to dirt. He continued on, and the walls slowly faded away into a starless night sky. Old houses began to shudder into existence, appearing like mirages on the horizon, though their windows remained dark and empty. Lightning crackled in the distance, and as the flash of green began to wane, Snape began to recognize the road.

"No," he said firmly. He stopped dead in his tracks, turning away from his route altogether. He could see the statue of Godric Gryffindor in the park a few blocks down. "Absolutely not. I'm _not_ doing this again."

He considered turning around and leaving the scene behind altogether, but he knew that he had come too far to give in now. And even if he had wanted to, he was sure that the town wouldn't allow him to avoid this.

That didn't make it any less unfair.

With no other choice, Snape moved forward through the ruined landscape. It did not need to be rust-covered and bloody for it to haunt him; rather, it was the exact image of what it had been on that Halloween night. Perfectly empty. The town didn't need to add any monsters, either; the memories proved to be beasts in themselves, the perfect ghosts with the perfect weapons. They needed no manifestations.

At last he passed the gate of the Potter home, and approached the splintered door. He remembered the first time he had walked this path, remembered the horror with which he had beheld the door blasted from his hinges. He had launched into a run at that point, tearing up and through the house. But not this time. There had been a spark of hope that had fueled his speed before, but now there was none. He knew what awaited him.

A flash of a memory suddenly overtook him as he entered the foyer, and he realized with painful immediacy that the sobs that pierced the air were his own. The events of that evening seemed to be already playing out before him, and suddenly an even deeper dread crept into his mind as he wondered what he would find. He had no choice but to continue on, doggedly placing one reluctant foot in front of the other.

Up the stairs. He had taken them two at a time before, pausing only to look down in horror at the body of James Potter sprawled on the floor. Only now, instead of the corpse, just the imprint of it remained etched into the carpet. The sobbing was nearly deafening now, though he noticed a foreign harmony that wove itself between the low notes.

The room itself: the nursery. The din ended suddenly, reduced to a soft murmur as though from the background. Lily's body was nowhere to be found, though it had left another imprint much like the one James Potter had left. Only this one was more distinct, taking the exact shape of her body as it curled in on itself, of her delicate hand stretched outwards as though looking for a last-moment rescue. It was just as painful as seeing the body itself.

Snape put a weary hand to his face before going to it, sitting down with his back against the rungs of the wooden crib.

He closed his eyes.

What was the point of facing this again? Hadn't he made this walk infinite times in his sleep, forced by the firm hand of his nightmares? Hadn't he faced this enough? Lily Evans was dead; he had held her body as he wept on that awful night. In a way, it felt as though he had never ceased his weeping, even years after he had left Godric's Hollow. For what purpose could he possibly need to suffer this again?

Something made him look up again, and he was only slightly startled by the wispy figure that had appeared by the doorway. And yet, something about it seemed almost docile. The cloak draped about it was barely a shadow of cloth, the frayed edges floating weightlessly about it. He might have mistaken it for a dementor at any other time, but this creature seemed too insubstantial for that. Its hollow face was hardly frightening, but instead rather pitiful; the translucent eyes and mouth were shaped into the picture of quiet mourning, of a grief so old and so well-worn that it had eaten away all this creature's soul had to offer.

Snape realized he was looking at himself.

The sigh he let out was audible, but no louder than the soft crying that echoed through the room. He and the creature stared at each other for a long time, until finally Snape rose to his feet. Another door had creaked open behind him, and so he accepted his cue to leave. But before he reached the doorway, he turned back.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked the ghost.

It looked at him with those tired, heavily-lidded eyes, and vanished with a muffled groan. He took this as 'no', and left the scene behind him.

Back in the hall, the door closed itself and disappeared, urging Snape forward along the town's prescribed route. There was a new sense of strength in his step, as he mulled over what he had seen.

There was a chance that Lily wanted him to live. There was a chance that she expected him to go out into the world and make something for himself. Looking at that hollow ghost reminded him of how little he had given himself, of how little he had partaken in life. That was not to say he deserved such things. In fact, his instinctual hope was that Lily would take him with her into the next realm, so that he would not have to partake in any kind of meaningful existence at all. But there was that chance.

There was only one thing that Snape could be sure of now: he had to see Lily. If nothing else, he had to explain that ghost to her; he had to explain that the reason he had become so hollow was because he had given everything to her.

Snape stopped. Though the hall seemed empty, there was something ominous about it that unsettled him. A few wisps of a woman's voice cut through the air, like the annoying buzz of an insect.

Suddenly something whizzed by his ear, and he gasped as it buried itself into the wall in front of him. He turned on the spot, seeing nothing, and then hesitantly turned back to pluck it from the metal. It was a long, elegant emerald quill pen, with a tip sharp enough to easily cut through flesh. He let out a small cry of pain when the quill thrashed against his arm and drew blood; the feather was even sharper than the tip, like a razor. Then, without warning, it came to life and darted out of his grasp, slitting open his shirt as it raced backward down the hall.

It was still dark, and the torch revealed nothing but the empty hall. But then there came a sound of rustling paper, and a high-pitched humming signaled the approach of the quill once more. This time Snape was ready for it, and after he dropped to the floor to give the pen a wide berth, he tore the axe from his belt and planted it in the center of where the quill had stuck itself into the wall. Half of it fell gently to the floor, and it was not until the sound of flipping pages became almost deafening that he recognized it.

He turned to see an orb of light in the distance, and around it circled pages upon endless pages of black text; they began to whisper the words that they carried, filling the air with the sound. A few of them had blown outward towards him, and he bent down to pick one up, true fear shining in his eyes. It was a title page, and on it was written, "_Snape: Saint or Scoundrel... By Rita Skeeter." _

He remembered. He had hounded Adelle until she had told him everything she knew about the book; nothing she had told him was good. Skeeter had brutalized him with her words, as she had done with Dumbledore, and the result was more than just a loss of dignity on his part. Adelle's words rang out yet again.

"_Harry Potter can do all he wants to tell people what you fought for, but there are still many who would love to see you dead._"

And why was that? Why would people doubt the boy that had saved them? Because someone had given them reason to doubt, a reason to gossip and ruminate amongst themselves. With the war over, people were happy to hang onto every titillating story no matter how terrible it was.

The pages began to twirl faster, and the light came closer as something began to happen to the walls of the corridor. With a horrible screeching sound, they seemed to retract into the ceiling, revealing the throngs of dark, featureless forms that had gathered around him. It was as if he had suddenly been placed in a transparent zoo exhibit, expected to perform some kind of trick. Or perhaps the attraction was only himself; his own horrid, grotesque, unearthly state of being. Snape's thoughts flickered back to the vision of Lucius he had seen. "_Mob Murder_". The voices he had heard in the hospital came back to him, and filled the air.

The roar of fluttering book pages had not subsided, and the dark figures around him began to yell and hiss. Something shapeless rose up from their ranks and narrowly missed him; he was instantly reminded of the episode at the school. Something else was thrown at him, and a few of the pages lurched forward to leave shallow papercuts in his exposed skin. He checked to see that the firing chamber of the gun was filled, and then shot several bullets into the crowd, and the remaining ones towards the cruel tempest of parchment.

Both stilled for a moment, before springing to life with twice the vengeance. He was suddenly being pelted with small, heavy objects, and the leaves of parchment began to dance around him as they each cut him in turn. The rumbling of voices had turned to a cacophony of screams and hisses, forming the roar of an angry crowd.

The overwhelming assault forced him to his knees, as Snape's mind raced to find any viable options. The axe was useless, seeing as confronting either of his attackers at close-range would certainly be lethal. The gun had served only to provoke these phantoms, even if he could expose himself long enough to reload the weapon. He couldn't think of anything he could say that would disperse them either; this was not like his encounters in the school courtyard, or in front of the church. The sense of dread that had been sitting so heavily in the pit of his stomach suddenly turned to a feeling of acute panic. It was only furthered by the pain caused by his quickly-accumulating wounds.

There was a glimmer of emerald in the dark. A pair of familiar eyes.

"Lily!" Snape called, trying in vain to shield himself with his arms. "Lily, help me! This isn't my fault! I… I did _nothing_ to these people!"

But Snape became unsure of what all this meant when the eyes came closer, and a figure came into view. It was the executioner monster, its hood torn away to reveal the glowing green irises.

He let out a scream of hysterical fury and slammed a fist down on the metal beneath him. This could not truly mean the end for him, could it? Had he really come all this way just to be killed by his mistakes? Hadn't he been _trying_ hard enough? Everything hurt; the small papercuts that sprinkled his back and arms stung in the rancid air. The bruises pulsed with each frantic beat of his heart. There was no escape now.

"_Harry Potter can do all he wants to tell people what you fought for…"_

He looked up once more at the monster before him, and it looked back at him. A few stray pages left tiny slices in the flesh. It seemed to be waiting for him, and in that moment, Snape understood its intentions.

"Help me, please."

The Sword of Gryffindor came loose again, and with heavy, lumbering steps, the creature moved towards the glowing heart of the book, towards Snape's own memories turned against him. The cuts in its body appeared faster now, as it reached deeper into the whirlwind of leather and parchment. It let out a moan of pain, mingling with the words of the figures surrounding them, and raised the sword above its head.

The tarnished silver fell with a surprising boom that shook the hall, and the blue, stolen memories turned a rusty crimson. A scream of anger rang out, sounding very much like the malevolent authoress herself, and it immediately became dark; the space remained illuminated only by the dim light that outlined the shadowy figures about him.

The book lay in inky chunks at the executioner's feet, and it slowly gathered them into its free hand before hurling them into the dark crowds. They dissipated, and their voices faded away. The hallway became empty once more.

Snape met the green eyes for a moment longer before the creature turned and staggered away, the heavy sword dragging painfully behind it. Soon only a quiet dripping remained, suggesting the trickling of blood. Whether it belonged to the creature or to himself, Snape wasn't sure.

A doubt clouded his mind, and he was hesitant to rise and follow after it. It had helped him, surely, but would it turn and attack? But as he looked down for a moment, he saw something familiar among the pages still scattered around him. Those same eyes stared up at him, and he picked up the small photograph of Lily that had apparently been printed on page 298. It had probably been taken sometime during her sixth or seventh year of Hogwarts; she looked young, vibrant, and happy.

Snape gently tucked the picture away and stood up, ignoring his injuries. All he knew was that he had to find that creature again; it had been terribly wounded, and it was his duty to protect it. He owed her that, still. He had promised.

He took off at a run, plunging into the darkness. His fingers found the 'on' switch of the torch as it bounced against his chest, and the renewed beam of light began to dance back and forth across the dark wall. There was a soft, weary groan from somewhere ahead, and he continued on despite no visual signs of the executioner.

The "executioner". Snape knew he could no longer call it that. He was certain of who the creature had been created in the image of, and though he had at times seemed like an executioner in Snape's mind, that was a delusion of his own making.

It made sense. The creature had not attacked him first, all the way back at the school. It had instead pierced through what had been his worst memory, and it was not until later that he had turned hostile towards it, opening fire with the intention of causing it pain. Only, it had seemed like such a threat back then. Later it had appeared over Regulus' reemergence from the grave, as the person it symbolized surely had, and then in the hospital it had stared at him a time as though debating whether to confront him. It was likely such a thing had happened in reality.

He knew who it was.

"Harry."

Snape had never called the boy by his first name, but he had been so taken aback when the torchlight had fallen on him. He seemed so out of place here.

The Harry Potter before him was no older than eleven, looking near identical to the way he did on the day they had first come face-to-face at Hogwarts. And yet, the arrogant smirk that he had once seen on his face was gone, as if his mind's eye had put it there itself. It probably had.

Instead, Harry's eyes shone with a deep sorrow, as though he knew what he was destined to do. It was as if he knew already the pain that would come from his burden; the loss of a childhood and those he loved most. But most of all, he looked alone and vulnerable. He looked like the child Snape had, down in the fermenting depths of the Half Blood Prince book. They both looked starved for love.

Snape remembered back to the Godric's Hollow the town had shown him, and the true one. The memory of his encounter with Lily's remains had always resonated with a baby's wailing, mingling with his own, and it wasn't until then that Snape understood why. He remembered looking up at the infant, trying in vain to understand the tears of a creature so vastly out of his comprehension. But now he saw that they had been crying together- he and the boy- with an equal, shared grief. The longing in their eyes was the same.

Snape reached out to the child, gesturing to the sword. "That looks heavy," he said, trying to speak gently. "Let me take that from you."

The boy took a step backwards, dragging the sword back with him. A trace of fear flitted over his features, and it sent a spear of guilt through Snape's chest. "It's alright. I… I'm not going to hurt you."

He remembered the last time he had seen Harry Potter, had looked directly into his eyes. He had been dying. He had asked only one small favor, "Look at me," and the boy had complied. But he had forgotten what had gone through his mind after that. Harry had Lily's eyes, and was the last living piece of her. If he hadn't fallen out of consciousness, he would have voiced that realization to the boy, as a token of apology. Now he gathered the words from his throat and spoke them with a slow steadiness.

"You have your mother's eyes, Harry," he whispered. "And your grandfather's before that. They're beautiful eyes. Full of…" He took a breath. "Full of kindness."

Finally the boy smiled. It was hesitant, the kind of shy smile that Snape had seen when he had watched him those first few weeks. It was the same way that Lily had smiled when she discovered a new piece of magic: tentative as though she was afraid it might be snatched away from her at any moment, but also glowing with a kind of humble pride at her accomplishment.

Slowly, the boy reached out with the sword, and Snape came forward as he saw the effort it took. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, and instantly it began to dissolve, the heavy layers of rust and blood flaking away. In a few moments, a silver dagger rested in his palm, the rubies twinkling in the light between his fingers.

When Snape looked up again, the boy had disappeared. Instead, a blue light had appeared further down the hallway, taking the form of a small stag. But this was not the adult animal that had revealed itself to him at the school; this creature's antlers were not fully grown, and there were still a few patches of feathery, juvenile fur around its hooves. It tossed his head, and padded off ahead.

The spectral beast silently guided him through the shadowy halls until at last another light began to pierce through the darkness. He could see the faint outline of the portrait's outstretched arms, and the stag went to it, nudging the dead fingers with its nose. It didn't seem to like what it smelled, and it shied away into the next corridor.

Snape chased after it, but only a fading light remained by the time he had come to the portrait himself. As he looked after where the stag had vanished, he wondered if he ever would have had the courage to have said those things to the actual Harry Potter. To his likeness here in the town, certainly. But to the boy himself? The _man_? Only perhaps.

The dead arms continued to reach out to him, and so he turned back to them fully. His eyes skimmed over the riddle once more as he catalogued the things he had been asked to retrieve. "_Your heart of gold, your treasured prize… My happy dagger, my funeral pyre_."

The first part seemed obvious. Snape reached into his bag and pulled out the small golden heart, followed by the photograph of Lily. He stared at her face on the parchment for a few moments; there was a warmth in her eyes that made this a treasured prize in indeed. But nonetheless, he reached out and placed it into one of the greying palms.

He let out a scream.

The hand had suddenly sprung to life, the fingers closing tightly around the photo. It did not move again, and Snape put a hand to his chest, trying to quell the frantic pumping of his heart. He let out a frustrated sigh before straightening again; he should have been used to this sort of thing by now. The golden heart was dropped quickly into the remaining hand, and Snape watched with morbid interest as the fingers claimed their trophy.

Snape was not sure he knew what the 'funeral pyre' was, but he took the Gryffindor dagger into his hand. But there was nowhere to put it. "Happy dagger?" he wondered aloud. He had heard the phrase before. Was the riddle referring to _Romeo and Juliet_? And sure enough, Snape could see that the white canvas over Lily's heart was a bit thinner than the rest. The thought troubled him.

It didn't make sense that he should "kill" this image of Lily. She looked so perfect, so pristine, so God-like, even. Was this meant to be a reminder of what he had spoiled? It couldn't be. The earlier signs had suggested that he _let go_ of his guilt and despair.

A thought crossed his mind. The photograph of Lily had been so beautiful because of its warmth and familiarity. The Lily before him now was cold and aloof, and was very little like the actual Lily he had once known. Had he created this other being himself? He must have. Or at least… He had taken that one moment in which she had turned away from him and allowed it to fill his memory. He doubted she had ever allowed her smiles to be tainted by cruelty, or her laughter to be brittle and full of distain. Surely that had been just one more thing he had created to punish himself, one more thing for the town to scrounge up from the foul depths of his brain and throw back at him.

Snape examined the dagger as he thought back to the conversation with Adelle in the church, and at last he fully understood what Lily was telling him.

The dagger represented Harry's burden, did it not? And Lily must have known the hardships that lay ahead of her son. While most killed by _Avada Kedavra_ died silently, Lily had screamed. The cry had been laced with the fear that perhaps her death would not be enough. It was a cry for help, begging someone- anyone- to see to it that her death was not in vain. It was the idea of leaving her son to this that pierced her heart so, rather than any feeling of holy sacrifice.

The act of giving her life had not been anything divine. It had been a moment's decision, fueled by a primal maternal instinct and human emotion. There had been a rawness about it, and a desperate fury. She had been a martyr, yes, but not necessarily a saint. Not God. Only a noble, human woman.

Snape raised the dagger and plunged it into the portrait. It was not Lily he was destroying: it was his false image of her. There was no maliciousness in the act, and there seemed to be no resentment in return.

A surge of heat from the dagger hilt forced him to back away, just as the portrait burst into flames. _My funeral pyre_. He watched as the canvas blackened and began to shrivel away, melting into the darkness of the cavity behind it. In less than a minute, only the frame remained, serving as a portal into the next room. Snape had a feeling this would be the last, and so he took a much-needed moment to use the remaining two discs on his bruises and cuts. Soon he was left sore, but in relatively one piece.

He briefly checked his gun before entering, and he shone the torchlight about to illuminate his surroundings. From what he could see, a long, empty hallway stretched out before him, with two tall, intricately carved doors waiting at its end. There was something menacing about it, in a way that made Snape doubt that Lily could be waiting for him there. Lily, he thought, or at least the town, must have one last test in store for him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he came to the doors, and they slowly opened to allow him inside.

The large room was dimly lit, revealing the rusty metal lattice that made up the floor and towering walls. The ceiling was indiscernible, lost in the abysmal darkness above him. There was a profound sense of emptiness that surrounded him here.

A blue light. Snape stepped forward to make out its shape, and his eyes widened when he did. It was not the young, docile stag that had guided him here in the first place; instead, before him was the massive, sinewy beast that he had first encountered at the school. It stopped some thirty meters from him, pawing at the ground and throwing its head. A show of force.

"James Potter."

The gentle civility that had previously filled his heart was gone, and was replaced with a burning hatred. It was true that Lily's son bore no true sins against him, but the same could not be said for the boy's father. James Potter had been an arrogant scoundrel.

"Are you my final test?" Snape called to the stag, his tone dripping with distain and the most profound antipathy. He let out a dry, bitter chuckle. "Do I finally have to defeat you to see her?" The creature only threw its head.

This was a second chance, he thought. This was at last another chance to prove that his will was stronger than Potter's; that he could _win_ against that other man. He had become so much stronger since they had last met, and his resolve had grown immeasurably over the course of those twenty years. He would not rest until this being knelt submissively at his feet.

"Then face me, Potter!" He cocked his gun and fired, and the shot narrowly missed the stag's head. It let out an angry snort and charged; two of Snape's bullets passed straight through it before it hit him.

It was just like that moment in the school; Lily's scream rang out in his ears, mingled with his own cruel retorts as he scolded an innocent student. Every instance in which he had taken pleasure in causing someone pain came back to him in an overwhelming wave of guilt and remorse. It nearly knocked him off his feet, and it took him a moment to recover. When he did, he looked up at the creature with the purest loathing in his eyes.

"What gives you the right!" Snape gave the gun an indignant wave in the stag's direction as they began to circle briefly. "Why should you replay my wrongdoings when you yourself are so equally burdened? What about the agony _you_ put me through! And perhaps I might not have been so cruel if not for you!"

Snape might have continued if the stag had not run through him again. It was not as though any overt wounds appeared on him, but the repeated attack was beginning to set a deep ache into his already-weary bones. The muscles in his limbs began to burn, but he ignored these things and ran forward to meet the creature's next attack.

This continued for what felt like hours. With each pass the stag made, it became a little harder for Snape to regain his footing, and soon Snape began to feel a deeper pain than anything a simple wound could inflict. The weariness that had been building during his time in the town was beginning to show itself.

"I'll admit," he panted at last, letting his shoulders sag for a moment. "I was far from perfect. I struggled on the edge of madness. But _you_… You're the one who pushed me! You _pushed_ me!"

He had pulled the axe from his belt and swung out with it as the stag rushed at him again. Almost as though to taunt him, the creature leaped gracefully through the blade before turning to pass through him with another gust of pain. This time it knocked the wind from him completely, and he struggled to regain his footing without toppling over. The stag merely pranced about him, completely unharmed.

"I could have had everything!" he screamed breathlessly, throwing down the axe. It was becoming nearly impossible to breathe. "If not for you! I would be… Sitting on my porch, sipping wine with… With my _wife_! And-! And children! I wouldn't want them, but we… We would have them anyway! Because that's-! That's what-!" But the fatigue weighed so heavily on Snape's shoulders that he could no longer speak.

The stag tore through him over and over again, sending the most agonizing spears of dread and horror through him. His heart ached, in addition to the rest of him, and it took another few minutes of this senseless fighting before he realized that tears were falling down his cheeks. He had used every bullet he had been carrying.

At last Snape fell, choking on his own breaths. "I can't…" He fell into another fit of coughing as his lungs burned and the pounding in his head became even more unbearable. He let out a scream of agony, throwing down the useless firearm. "Is this… How it ends?" He took a gulp of air, unable to look at the figure looming above him. "Surrender?"

Of course, he thought. Why should he ever have been able to defeat James Potter? That wasn't the way things had been. The town was a place for second chances, yes… But it was not a place to rewrite the past. Perhaps he was meant to face that reality, he thought, though the idea of it sickened him. The sting of defeat only added to the physical pain he was in. But there was no way to avoid it, just as every test before it.

"You… You win," he wheezed. The words were laced with a profound anguish.

Perhaps Lily had brought him all this way to face that one truth: it was over. The battle was lost. It was useless for him to continue living in the name of her memory. She never wanted him.

Once again the boiling hatred for James Potter rose up in the back of Snape's throat. He was unsure if the ghost before him was truly the man or not, but either way, Snape was sure he was watching the scene with the utmost delight. As if watching him squirm for the past twenty-seven years hadn't been enough.

But when he chanced to meet the ghost's eyes, there was no maliciousness in them. Rather, they looked down at him with a kind of sadness: a melancholy sympathy. It made Snape sick to his stomach, and his features twisted in revulsion.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY!"

"I'm sorry."

Snape paused for only a shocked moment, before giving a disdainful snort. "You're laughing to yourself. You lying bastard." But there was no trace of laughter in his face. His expression was one of solemn humility, of true earnestness. "Tell me then," he snarled. "Tell me what you're sorry for. Acknowledge your sins!"

It was silent for a moment, before a flash of that fateful day beneath the beech tree filled his vision. He saw himself tormented by the other boy, the air ringing with cries of, "_Snivellus! Slimy, saggy Snivellus!_" There was a fallen stack of books, a bloody broken nose, and a nasty trip into a puddle of mud. "_Hey Snivelly, I'll kill you if I find out you've been trying to feel up Evans._" The tears had burned down his cheeks the moment he was out of sight.

And yet, there was no anger in any of these memories. Their images were shaded only with a genuine quality of remorse, as if from James' point of view.

"And what _about_ Lily?" he muttered bitterly. It was difficult to keep hold of his anger when confronted with such sincerity. "You aren't sorry that you stole her away to keep for yourself? You aren't sorry for _that_?"

The spirit was silent, and instead spoke with a firm, yet compassionate look. "_I didn't steal her_," he seemed to say. "_She chose me._"

Snape stared back down at the floor, his face going red with shame. How foolish he must have sounded, clinging to that sad delusion. Lily never would have allowed herself to be stolen or possessed by any man, let alone James Potter. He had won her over fair and square, and their child- the perfect fusion of their qualities- proved an absolute testament to their union. Lily would not have died for a child born by a man she did not love.

"I know." The confirmation came out as a despondent whisper.

The weight of this rejection in his chest was not a new one. In fact, it was likely that his unfeeling mask had been created in an attempt to alleviate this pain, as it was greater than all others. It was this weight that lay at the center of his bitterness and callousness and all vices intended to keep himself in isolation. It was this weight that had dragged him down into the depths of the Half Blood Prince text, where he was sure he would decay and ferment until the end.

But then, James Potter did something unexpected.

"Do you still wish to see her?" he asked.

Snape looked up, startled to hear the man's voice after all this time. And yet, there was something serene about it, as though it had matured well past the infantile sneer that had often tainted it. There was some kind of strange benevolence in it now. Snape opened and closed his mouth a few times, willing the words to come out. "Of course I do," he answered.

"Prove it."

He sat bewildered for a moment, before slowly reaching into his bag to pull out his wand. He unsteadily pulled himself to his feet, faltering slightly in his exhaustion. But there was not much further to go, he knew. He closed his eyes.

He conjured up an image of Lily in his mind; not of the cold God he had created, but Lily as she had been as a small child. He placed himself next to her on the swingset, and he watched as she gently rocked herself back and forth while braiding a handful of wildflowers together.

"_Will we always be friends, Sev?_" she had asked.

Snape gathered the feeling inside of him, trying to forget about the horrors he had seen and the pain that surrounded him. Instead, for a moment's time, he was able to grasp at that one memory of happiness.

"_Expecto Patronum._"

There was a stillness before the silver doe sprung forth, exploding into the darkness with a glowing brilliance. She sailed above his head and touched down a few paces to his left, skittishly prancing about the ring of light that James gave off. "That word again," Snape mused, speaking more to his own memory than to the specter of James. "_Always_. Such power in such a simple word." He took a breath and rose to his feet, summoning up the strength to speak his final words here.

"You may have won her over, James Potter, but nothing ever changed." He pointed a stern finger in the direction of the doe: the one thing that James could never take away. "_That_ never changed. _That_ is 'always'."

The spirit nodded its head, a nod of concession, and it slowly faded away into the darkness. In the meantime the doe had glided up to him, and he set a gentle hand on her nose. The magic made his fingertips tingle, but after another moment he realized that the overwhelming fatigue in his body was gone. He was still sore and battered and more than a little tired, but it was bearable.

He looked down at the embodiment of his memories, and moved to rub the creature behind her ears. Her pure luminosity was comforting. "You've been good to me over the years," he said quietly. "Will you take me a little further?" The doe let out a low, dusty snort and was about to trot away when Snape held out a hand. "Stay close to me, please." A nod, and the doe waited for Snape to place a soft hand on her back before moving on into the darkness.

Snape tried to steady his breathing as they moved into the next chamber. There was a deep anticipation that fluttered in his heart, mixed with what he feared was a profound sense of dread. The hope of seeing Lily again had been the only thing motivating him to make his way through the town, though now that the reunion seemed close at hand, a glimmer of doubt flickered in his mind. It was true that Lily had lured him into this living hell, and so far she had not kept any of her promises. Of course he wanted to see her, but did _she_ want to see _him_? And if so, would she have no words for him but ones of contempt?

The doe shivered, startling Snape from his thoughts, and she paused to turn towards him. Then, as though looking to answer his question, she reached out her muzzle to where the white cloth was still wrapped around his bare wrist. He felt her teeth close around it, and with a sharp yank she freed it and tossed it about with a shake of her head. She looked back at him, and Snape managed a small smile and a nod before accepting the cloth back.

At last the hall came to an end, and Snape's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch as he saw the small altar placed there. There were three plates arranged on its surface, and yet another plaque bearing the clue for what seemed to be another puzzle. His tired eyes half-heartedly wandered over the two words written there.

"_An education."_

"I thought I was finished," he said weakly. But the doe would have none of it.

She nudged the tattered bag still resting on Snape's hip, and he paused a moment, considering the words before him. An education? That was certainly something the town had offered him, he thought. So perhaps it was asking what he had learned? At that moment he realized what the riddle was asking for, and he pulled out the music box, the locket, and the plastic ring.

For each of these things he had overcome something that had previously kept him in his emotional prison. For the music box he had refused to kill the ghosts of Harry and June Evans; he had taken the second chance to denounce the Death Eaters and all they stood for. The locket from Regulus signified how he had let go of the guilt that plagued him, and the ring from Charlotte was awarded for his attempt to reach out to other human beings. Three facets of his personality: each one destroyed prepared him a little more for the world at large. Did this mean, he wondered, that Lily intended to send him out into that world?

Snape gently placed each token in their respective dishes, and the doe began to glow more brightly with each one. A smile of anticipation found its way onto his lips, and a small feeling of accomplishment began to grow in his chest.

There was a monstrous roar, and Snape spun around just in time to see a spidery, blood-soaked hand reach up from the black fissure in the floor and grab for the doe. She let out a cry of terror before the fingers closed around her, squeezing until she dissolved into the air.

"YOU _PROMISED_!" Snape shrieked, clutching the white cloth tighter in his hand. But already the creatures were upon him, trapping him in a downward spiral of dog's fangs that tore at him, undead nurses that burned his skin, and dark, shadowy remnants of a ghost that struck terror into his heart. Everything he had encountered came back in that instant, each striking out as though fighting for a chance to make that final strike, lunge at him again, sink their teeth into him one last time. Each emotion, every drop of dread, flooded back in an overwhelming wave of horrendous sensation that sucked him downward, faster and faster towards what black underworld he knew not.

But then he felt a woman's hand grab his arm, fighting to pull him free from the town's grasp. There was a bright, warm light, and an all-too familiar voice that rang out harshly amongst the discord.

"Let him go," she commanded. "Give him to me now."

The light surrounded him as the nightmare fell away, and he felt a presence envelop him with a profound sense of wellbeing. It cradled him in its tender grasp, lulling him slowly into the darkness. Soon the town had disappeared completely, leaving him in the shadows' sound embrace. The voice came again, though now it took the form of a gentle murmur. "You're safe now," she whispered, hushing him softly. "It's alright. I won't let you fall again."


	9. Good ending: Beginning

A/N: This is the "Good+" ending, which follows the natural canon of the story. Though there will be "other endings", I still consider this the official conclusion. Therefore, if even if you haven't reviewed before, I'd love for you to drop me a little note to let me know you liked it. I can't tell you how happy reviews make me, and it would be an especially nice way to wrap up this project. So thank you for reading!

Snape felt the warm sun on his face even before he opened his eyes, and the long-forgotten smell of warm earth filled his nose. He had been here before, many years ago when he had been only a boy. He had lain in this field as he did now, basking in a time when everything seemed possible, and when the trials of his life seemed no more substantial than the breeze that drifted over him.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the white clouds whispering through the sapphire sky.

And yet, the field seemed to be deserted. His heart sank as he remembered what had happened, and he thought that perhaps he had died in that final struggle. Either way, this place did not seem like Hell; instead, perhaps more like Heaven. But he knew all too well how quickly those things could change.

He got to his feet, looking around for any signs of the raging hellfire that had consumed the field he had found himself in before. There were none. In fact, the ominous white lilies that had so thoroughly dominated the previous field were gone, leaving just the sprawling golden grass that he remembered. It radiated a soothing tranquility that was not matched even by the church or the lakeside. But there was still one remaining knot of dread in his chest: Lily was nowhere to be found.

His footsteps crunched in the tall grass as he moved forward, and it was then that he realized that his clothes were once again clean and whole. There was no dirt or blood coating his skin, and a hand through his hair revealed that it too was relatively clean. _He was clean_. The idea filled him, and he looked forward with a new sense of determination. Something appeared in the distance.

As he grew closer, he could make out the shapes of the playground he and Lily had so often played on, and he was heartened to see that it did not move away from him. It stayed where it was, inviting him, welcoming him, and finally he saw a slight movement on the swingset, and a flash of auburn hair.

Snape walked on, stopping on the edge on the playground gravel that seemed to stand like an island in the sea of fluttering grass. All he could do for a moment was stare at the woman on the swing, her eyes raised almost worriedly to the sky above her. But she was not bathed in light or dressed in flowing white robes. There was no ethereal fog about her form, nor clusters of lilies growing at her feet. She looked as she had in life, wearing a simple blouse and skirt, with her hair modestly tucked behind one ear.

"Lily?" he called.

She looked up, her expression becoming alert, and she looked around. "Severus?" Her eyes scanned the horizon. "Where are you?"

Snape looked down at his feet, the toes of his boots just barely coming short of the gravel. Then he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"I'm here."

Lily looked at him, and a gentle smile played on her lips as she stood. "I've been waiting for you."

"Are...?" He could not break his stare away, even as his expression became twisted in anxiety. "Aren't you going to disappear again?"

She shook her head, and her eyes glimmered with the same warmth that he remembered so lovingly. "We're done with that now. And I'm sorry about what happened at the very end, there. I suppose the town was enjoying your energy a bit too much and… It just didn't want to let you go." Her expression fell for a moment, giving way to a look of unease. "You're not angry at me, are you?"

"Of course not!" They both seemed surprised by the fervor with which his words came out, and Snape could not help but stare at the ground. "I couldn't ever be angry with you. I was just... I was so afraid that you hated me."

"No, Severus... Not at all."

He met her eyes when she said his name, and he almost began to tremble when she came closer, her arms outstretched to him. He couldn't bring himself to move until she was right in front of him, and he hesitantly reached forward to embrace her, almost as though he was afraid that she would dissolve into smoke. She didn't, and his heart thumped frantically in his chest as his arms closed around her. She was warm and familiar, and she smelled ever so faintly of cinnamon and wildflowers.

His shoulders began to shake in earnest, and he could not help the choked sob that forced its way out of his mouth. "It's alright," Lily whispered, and Snape held her tighter as he broke down.

In this town, he had shed tears of sorrow, of fear and anger and pain. These tears were different, and were joyful.

"I love you," he murmured between sobs. "I love you so much. Please forgive me."

Lily's mouth twitched, and her eyes began to water as she buried her face in Snape's shoulder. She could barely fathom the loyalty with which he had made his way through the town, never questioning her, never looking for a way out. It seemed almost impossible that someone could love her so infinitely, and it pained her to know that she could not offer anything in return. After all, she thought, that love was the only thing he had ever wanted.

He had been her friend, her sole confidant for so long. On that afternoon by the lake, she had been more hurt than anything, simply because she felt that he had chosen the Death Eaters over her. She had felt like she had lost him. But now, it was as if the young man she had known long ago had returned to her, and that old affection rose up and filled her chest. And yet, it was tinged with the guilt of knowing that she had hurt him perhaps even more deeply in return. For truly, only she could reduce the immovable Severus Snape to such shameless tears. She could do nothing but hold him tighter as though that might take his pain away, and hush him tenderly until her touch began to calm him.

"I forgave you a long time ago," she said gently. Snape gave a small jump of surprise or delight, but he made no motion to let go. "For what you said that one afternoon. For your part in my death. It was an accident, and you did try to have me spared... That wasn't what made me angry."

At this Snape leaped back as though she had slapped him, his eyes wide with the prospect of anger still boiling in Lily's heart. But he saw no trace of it in her features, and he hesitantly took her hand when she held it out to him. She gently led him to settle beside her on the wooden merry-go-round, and he sat bewildered for a moment before she spoke again.

"What made me angry was what you chose to do after my death. And perhaps the circumstances in which you tried to save me. You..." Her brow furrowed for a moment. "You didn't care if my husband or child died, did you?"

Snape said nothing.

"Don't you think that was wrong?"

"At the time? No. I never cared about what was wrong or right. I only cared about you."

"And now? Surely I can't still be the only thing you care about."

"I can't say."

"Severus..." She refrained from allowing any tone of frustration to taint his name; she knew he deserved her unconditional patience after all he had suffered. "In that case, I must ask about something you said to Adelle Branston a little while back. Do you really think I'm perfect?"

"Well... The town certainly challenged my feelings on the subject. I used to, for sure."

"I'd like to tell you myself. I'm _far_ from perfect. Do you really think you're the only one who made mistakes? Forget any of the stupid things I did in school; what about having a baby in the middle of a war? I _wanted_ one, sure, but was that smart? It wasn't. And to be completely honest, I wanted Remus as our secret-keeper, too. I let James talk me out of it. And whose fault was it that we stayed in the country while the most powerful Dark Wizard alive was out to kill us? It was mine. I had to convince James to stay. That was _me_ being a genuine Gryffindor dumbass."

Snape's mouth fell open, his eyes having grown to the size of dinner plates.

"What? You're _shocked_ that I just called myself a dumbass? Dumb. Ass."

"But _I'm_ the one who... I..."

"You relayed the Prophecy, yes. _You_ made that mistake. But we all made different mistakes that led to the same end. You did, I did, James did, Peter did... Whoever was watching the stairwell that night in the Hog's Head did... Hell, even Voldemort made a mistake on the night of my death- one that was particularly fatal, if I'm correct."

"But why do I still feel as though my mistakes are so much greater than yours?"

"Well..." She sighed again. "Your mistakes hurt a lot of people. And I'm not talking about anything you did with the Death Eaters, or under Dumbledore's command, or even anything related to me. I suppose... I just don't understand why you decided to live like you did. You could have done more with your potions work, which I know you enjoyed, and used the money to build a healthy lifestyle. You could have balanced a life _and_ the duty you felt to me. When I watched you from the next world from time to time, I beat myself over the head wondering, 'Why? _Why_ would he choose this for himself?' And finally I realized that it was just your way. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" Her response came in the form of his furrowed brow.

"Severus. You always believed that I was disappointed in you. You believed I wanted some kind of retribution for your part in my death. Is that correct?" Snape nodded feebly, and it took Lily a moment to find words. "Why on earth did you think _hurting_ yourself would make me happy?"

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He could only shake his head, one hand anxiously massaging the other.

"What frustrated me even more," here Snape's face snapped up to look into Lily's, "was the way you took out your suffering on other people. What good was punishing yourself if all it did was make you bitter and petty? Because..." She paused, and took Snape's hand, making him twitch slightly. And yet, she would not allow him to look away. "I would have preferred you to be happy and successful, and at the same time bring happiness to those close to you. Instead, you protected my son- which I am eternally grateful for- but you hurt everyone around you in the process. _That's_ what disappointed me. _That_ was your mistake."

Snape broke eye-contact and instead looked down at his hand in hers.

"But you regret that now, I think," she continued. "And that's... That's why I brought you here." Snape opened his mouth as though he was about to speak, but then closed it when he looked back at Lily again. "Do you want to ask me something?" She tried to give an encouraging smile, but instead she merely looked rather self-conscious. "Severus... I'm not here to intimidate you. In fact I... I would like us to be honest with each other, as one flawed adult to another."

"I... I can't help but think of one of the last challenge you set for me. The battle against James? All my life, I've regretted losing you to him as much as anything else, and I have to ask you. Did he make you happy? I feel as though he should have done everything but kiss the ground at your feet, and yet... He seemed too proud for that." He paused, drawing a finger across the back of her hand. "I have always felt that I could have made you happier, if I'd had the chance."

Lily sat for a moment, watching his hand move over hers. There was a reverence in his touch, as though each moment was one of the purest bliss. It almost pained her to see. "Severus. I don't have the slightest doubt that you would have made me happy. But James treated me very well, and I loved him. I wanted him in a way that..." She gave a slight grimace, looking guiltily up to meet Snape's eyes. "You were like my brother, Severus. I loved you, but not like that."

"Even if I had been in Gryffindor with you? Would you have wanted me then?"

"I don't know."

"But I would have done whatever you asked of me. I never would have argued with you. I would have done _anything_ to please you."

"But can any relationship survive when one half is subservient to the other? Is that any way to live?"

"It was how _I_ wanted to live."

"And what about me? Severus, I _wanted_ someone to disagree with. James and I were very different people and yet... We had this... _chemistry_, and I don't regret my choice for a minute." The way Snape's face had fallen pulled sharply at her heartstrings, and Lily sighed before adding, "I was happy, Severus, but I do regret hurting you. I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry for it. I really had no idea. I'm sorry." She examined his hand in the light, and intertwined her fingers with his. "It pained me to see you suffer so much. Even after I was dead, all you could think about was trying to please me. And that's why my son is alive today: because you were kind enough to protect him in my absence."

"To be honest, kindness had nothing to do with it."

"Then let me take a moment to say this and get it out of the way." She pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. "If there was one thing that ever made me think I could hate you, it was the way you treated him. Harry, I mean. Just thinking about it now makes me want to slap you as hard as I can." Snape had jerked away at the word 'hate', and he had withered under her criticism so fully that he looked like a small creature huddled up against the cold. Lily ignored this, and gave an angry shake of her head. "You messed with my _baby_, Severus. The thought that you would regard my son- the child that came from me, the child I gave my life for- with such _loathing_, made me sick."

"Please," he whispered. "Don't hold it against me."

"I don't." Her tone became softer again. "You're sorry for the way you acted, and in some twisted way I can actually understand why you did it in the first place. It was wrong... But I understood."

"He was talented like his father- popular, handsome, athletic... But he had your eyes and your good heart and that's what bothered me most. I wanted him to be arrogant and cruel like James, just so I could have a reason to hate him. But he never was, and so I never had an excuse." Snape sighed. "As much as I didn't want to admit it, your son is a good man, Lily. You have every right to be proud of him."

"I hope one day you can say that to his face. I'm not demanding it, but it would make me very happy. Not tomorrow, or this year, or in the next few years to come, but... Someday, when you're ready, I would like for you to speak with him. On one hand, I think it would bring a great sense of closure to both of you. On the other hand, you really do owe him an apology. But don't do it because I told you to. Do it because it's the right thing."

"I'll remember."

"To change the subject, I would like to point something else out to you while it's on my mind. I think it would please you to know."

"Yes?"

"Most of the Wizarding world knows my story: of how I refused to stand aside for Voldemort, and instead gave my life to form a love shield around my son." She paused, giving her chin a thoughtful tap. "I'll ask a question. My husband also died that night, yes? Why didn't his death also create a love shield? Think carefully, now."

"Well… If I may be blunt… The Dark Lord- _Voldemort, _I should say- simply blasted James aside when he entered. He had no chance to sacrifice himself." He gave a slight wince. "Is that not correct?"

"It is. But if that's the case, then why didn't the same happen to me? Voldemort gave me the opportunity to escape; he gave me the _opportunity_ to offer the sacrifice. Why is that?"

Snape's brow furrowed in thought for at least a minute, before the realization made his eyes widen. "Because I asked him to," he whispered. He involuntarily touched a hand to his chest, as though to quell the ache that had risen up there. But it was not painful; rather, it was a pang of something that felt suspiciously like pride. "Are you saying…?"

"If not for your love for me, my son would have been killed that night, along with both James and myself. There would be no tale of the Boy Who Lived, and it's anyone's guess as to how that war might have ended." She gave a small smile, and allowed Snape a moment to absorb this information for a minute or so. He sat in silence, eyes closed, his head gently shaking back and forth as he stroked her hand. "I recognize that, Severus, and I understand that you did your best for me. Thank you."

"I cannot tell you what good that does my heart, Lily. But…"

"I'm afraid I have nothing but my thanks to offer you."

"It isn't like that. I... Are you sure you don't hate me?"

"Surely you can't _really_ still think that. What makes you ask?"

"I don't refer to anything you've said to me during our meeting here. Rather… I cannot help but think of the nature of this place." For a moment Lily looked around at the tranquil field and the playground, before realizing that Snape spoke of the town he had been sent through.

"I couldn't hate you, Severus. At least let that much be clear. To be honest, I had little say over what Silent Hill did to you. I didn't create those monsters, or the puzzles. I merely crossed over to bring you here, and everything the town created came from your mind and your mind alone." She looked up at him guiltily. "Did I do the right thing? I didn't know how else to help you, and the idea of you throwing your life away bothered me too much to allow me peace in the next world. I just... I wanted to help you."

"I suppose... Well, I don't I want to kill myself anymore, and I suppose I'm up to giving life another try. Of course, it's not exactly something I've ever given much thought to."

"That's what I'd like. I'd like to see you try again." It was quiet for a moment before Lily asked, "Speaking of which, do you think you'll pursue Adelle's affections?"

"Wh- Why on earth would I do that!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not? And not to change the subject again, but why haven't you ever pursued any other woman, even physically? You're still a virgin, aren't you?"

"I am _not_ having this discussion with you."

"I don't mean to embarrass you. I was just asking a question. Why?"

Snape took a moment before responding, tracing Lily's hand as though wondering what such intimate contact would feel like. It was the first time he had truly contemplated such a thing since his adolescent years. "I suppose I felt as though entering into such a relationship would have been unfaithful to you."

"Severus, you weren't _married_ to me."

"…Not legally, at least."

There was a moment in which they locked eyes: Snape's shining with that same mesmerized glimmer that had showed itself when he was younger, and Lily's clouding over slightly with sadness and perhaps a little discomfort. She drew her hand away, and Snape looked downwards as though he was disgusted with himself.

"You asked me a question, and that was my honest answer. I'm sorry it wasn't what you wanted to hear."

"You don't have to be defensive about it. I just..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. Let me ask something different, then. What do you think of Adelle?"

"I don't know. She took care of me in the hospital, she helped me survive here, she's experienced as much trauma as I have..."

"Really? It surprises me that you would think so."

"She was raped for years by someone she thought she could trust. An escape attempt would have meant certain death. I cannot imagine many things are worse."

"She's certainly seen a great deal... But don't you have an opinion of her as a woman?"

"She seems like an agreeable person."

"Agreeable to you?"

Snape took a moment to understand the hopeful glint in the woman's eyes, and he responded with a firm shake of his head. "I don't love her, Lily."

"I don't expect you to. Not now, and not anytime soon. In fact, I might be wrong about the whole thing, and you may never feel anything more for her than you would for a friend. But if there was one thing I had control of in this whole thing, it was the people who came here with you."

"They didn't come here just by chance?"

"I selected Adelle very carefully. I wanted to find someone who you would be compatible with."

"Don't tell me you're attempting to pair me off with her."

"No. I'm simply giving you an opportunity that you might not have had otherwise. You see, just as you are discomforted by women, so is Adelle discomforted by men. The only reason you trust each other even in the slightest is because you are already familiar with each other within an environment where any inherent sexual tension is simply nonexistent. That, coupled with the fact that both of you have pretty much renounced physical intimacy as a concept, means that you are allowed a purely platonic, unthreatening relationship before and _if_ you decide to go any further."

"You really gave this some thought, didn't you? On the other hand, I'm slightly discomforted by the notion of you contemplating my sexuality."

"What I'm saying is that the lack of sexuality in your relationship gives you room to grow with each other- rehabilitate each other, even. In that way, I think you are well-suited to one another, and I think you should one day try to pursue intimacy in some shape or form."

"And if I decide against it?"

"If _either _of you decide against it, then you have a wonderful friendship in your grasp, and there's nothing wrong with that. I merely did what I thought was best. Just think about it. Part of giving life another chance is seizing opportunities, and I've merely given you a few to get started." She smiled. "We might have had our disagreements with Dumbledore, but he once said something very wise to my son. '_It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live_'. That's what I would like you to do, Severus. I would like you to live, and live to the fullest. You've suffered too much."

It was quiet for a few minutes as Snape contemplated this concept, and after a while he made a small, thoughtful sound and nodded. "Alright then. But in that case, I must ask you something else. If you brought Ms. Branston here because she was familiar to me, what about Charlotte? I can't recall ever seeing her before."

At this Lily laughed softly, though her eyes held a melancholy glimmer. "It was not my intention to draw her here," she began. "But when I realized that her parents had passed away, I saw a perfect opportunity for you to help each other, just as I planned with Adelle. While Charlotte was searching for an adult to protect her, I saw in her an innocence that I thought might reawaken your own. She has a gentleness not often seen in young children, and a general acceptance of life that led me to believe that she would accept you as well." She gave her head a small tilt. "You really don't know?"

From out of thin air, she pulled out a small stuffed animal: a rabbit made of soft white cloth, with floppy ears and two black button eyes. The fabric was slightly frayed along the seams, and had taken a slightly greying color as though it had been well-loved for many years. Snape looked at it blankly for a moment, and then hesitantly looked back at Lily as a vague wisp of a memory flashed in his mind's eye. She held out her hand to him, a gentle smile on her lips, and he touched his fingers to hers.

_Snape saw himself in St. Mungo's, lying in bed with his eyes closed while the darkening dusk of early evening crept through the split between the curtains. It was about two weeks before he was to be released, and he had fallen asleep only after having been heavily drugged. And yet, someone must have left the door open a crack, and it opened further to reveal a sliver of a now-familiar face. Charlotte looked in for a moment, clutching the rabbit in her arms, and she was about to leave again when she paused._

_She stepped inside further, looking at Snape's motionless form and then the surrounding room with an expression of confusion. It seemed to be several minutes that she stood there, until the door opened again._

"_What do you think you're doing in here?" hissed Adelle, her eyes wide with what seemed to be fear. Then she saw the girl's face. "Oh, you're Renée's daughter." She beckoned to the girl and made to usher her outside. "Mr. Snape can be very grumpy, so it would be best if you left him alone."_

"_But..." Adelle paused, meeting the girl's eyes. When she finally spoke, her words were soft and full of concern. "Why doesn't he have any flowers? All the other patients have flowers, and he doesn't."_

"_Well..." The nurse furrowed her brows as she looked back to Snape. "Some people don't like Mr. Snape very much."_

"_Why not?"_

"_It doesn't matter," Adelle whispered, and she moved them closer to the door. "You don't have to worry about him."_

"_But..." Charlotte stopped, and the look in her eyes made Adelle pause for a moment. It was a look of surreal understanding, as though she could somehow feel sympathy for a man whose situation was so vastly out of her comprehension. She turned back to Snape, and ran quietly up to the bed._

"_Wait!"_

_But Charlotte had already set the rabbit down on the nightstand and run back, slipping through the doorway and out of sight._

Lily smiled down at it, pulling her hand back to stroke the greying fabric with delicate fingers. Then she looked back up at Snape. "Adelle was going to give it back, but that was the last day Charlotte's mother ever came to the hospital. So instead, you let it fall behind the nightstand, and you left it there... Severus?" He looked up, after having been staring ashamedly at his feet. "It doesn't matter what you did. As long as you give it back to her."

"Of course," he said softly, and he watched as Lily tucked it into the bag that he had set down beside him.

"There was one last thing that I wanted to speak with you about," Lily continued.

"Yes?"

"Would you roll up your sleeve, please?"

He paused, confused, and then realized that her eyes were fixed on his left forearm. "No!" They both stopped, and Snape had backed away slightly with his hand to his mouth. "I... I mean... Not to you, Lily. That is, it doesn't..." He looked around them, his eyes drinking in the perfection of the grass, the pureness of the clouds and the clean smell of the earth.

"Severus?" He looked back at Lily, who had held out her hand to him. After a moment, he winced and held out his arm to her as though it pained him. But she accepted it and gently pushed the fabric up his arm, all the way to his elbow. His flesh stretched as white and as clean as the clouds above him, and he looked down at it in disbelief before meeting Lily's eyes again. She did not seem surprised.

"You don't think it's possible?" she asked, even though there was no need for it. She just shook her head and pulled his sleeve back down, buttoning the cuff as mother might. "My son should have taught you otherwise. After all, the Dark Mark is only as its name implies: a mark that symbolizes a tie to Dark magic. And what is the one thing that can overcome Dark magic?"

She looked expectantly at Snape, and after a moment, an expression of serenity came over his face. "Love," he said quietly.

"I told you that I wasn't in love with you, but that doesn't mean I don't _love_ you. And even though you hurt me terribly in those last few years, I had to tell myself that you didn't mean it. And I know you didn't. I know how much you love me." She pulled him to his feet, taking him into her arms once again, and she whispered into his ear, "You just have to know that I _do_ love you. I love you as much as I possibly can."

He held her, tears again rolling down his cheeks, and Lily pulled back to wipe them away. "What can I do for you, Severus? Tell me how I can make the pain go away."

Snape took a moment, looking out into the endless sea of grass that stretched around them. "Lie with me in the field, like we used to."

Lily smiled and wordlessly took his hand, leading him over the threshold of the playground. After a few steps he looked back to see it shiver in the light, disappearing like a mirage on a hot summer day. He thought no more of it, and instead looked down at Lily beside him, her fingers intertwined with his.

She stopped after a few minutes, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the breeze that tousled her hair. Snape took his eyes from her to look at the expanse of earth before him: the wind sending vast ripples through the endless grass, the smell of the soil, the perfect blue of the sky.

"This is the half-way world, isn't it?" he asked softly, as though afraid his voice might ruin such perfection.

"Yes. It provides the greatest comfort possible before a person passes into the next world- or in your case, goes back to earth."

The grass at their feet had flattened itself, creating a bed onto which Lily settled herself, gesturing to Snape to join her. He complied and spent a moment sprawled on his back, looking into the pristine sky, before turning to face the woman beside him.

"Severus," she murmured.

He took her into his arms, holding her as he would a delicate flower, and soon she began to hum the tune that had once flowed from the old music box.

He wasn't sure how long they lay like that. It felt as though he had to come to Silent Hill with something hard and impenetrable within him, and the town had irreverently torn it to pieces despite it having been tamped down so tightly for so many years. But then he had then come to Lily- to this field- with that incomprehensible mess, his soul raw and vulnerable and in too many pieces to count. Now, lying with Lily tucked into his arms, listening to her soothing voice, it was as though the world had stopped long enough for him to gather up those pieces and begin fitting them back together again.

He had been sick for so long, and it was as though someone had come along and offered him a vial of medicine and a cup of tea, before wrapping him in a soft blanket. This care seeped into him, filling him entirely, and for the first time in many years he felt no burden in his chest, no sense of dread polluting his mind. He felt as though he had been reborn, and was resting peacefully within the safety of some nurse's arms. He relished the lack of fear and pain and anxiety, and he gave himself to the calm ecstasy that washed over him.

Finally, Snape began to feel a drowsiness pulling at his eyelids, and he turned to meet Lily's eyes. She reached over to cup his cheek, her fingers tenderly brushing the sallow skin.

"I think it's almost time to go," she whispered.

"Already?"

"Neither of us can stay here forever. You know that."

Snape let his fingertips rest at her temple, before reverently making their way down her neck and then back again. The world he knew seemed so far away, so separated from this realm of warmth and light.

"Will it be alright? When I go back, that is."

"If you make it so, yes."

The exhaustion began to spread through Snape's body- not an aching tiredness, but what one would feel after lying in such comfort for so long. He tried to fend it off for a few moments longer.

Lily moved her face closer to his, and pressed her lips to his forehead, then to the bridge of his nose.

"Please. Do not dwell on me."

"Lily..." He met her eyes one last time, the emerald green sparkling and filling him with as much warmth as the sunshine or the soft, balmy breeze.

"Let me go, Severus. You have to let me go."

"Lily... Thank you."

He felt himself slip away, his body enveloped in a warm, sweet-smelling darkness that beckoned him back to reality. But Lily's touch guided him through his descent, and did not leave until he had safely touched upon mortal ground.

...

Snape turned over fitfully and lifted himself onto his hands and knees. He had been set down in the middle of the street, though it seemed odd for the lack of fog that shrouded it. The mist was there, certainly, but it did not have that oppressive weight that had choked him before. It drifted nonchalantly in the direction of the wind, which whistled slightly as it moved in gusts through the various signs and storefronts. Though the town still retained its air of mysticism, the ethereal silence was gone.

"Severus!"

He turned to see Adelle jog towards him, a smile on her face. Lily's words echoed in his mind, and when he smiled back it was tinged with melancholy, but also with hope.

"I've been walking around for ages looking for you," she began, talking a little too fast. "I mean, I didn't want to just leave you here, but then I thought maybe you had left already but it wasn't like there were any monsters around and I thought..." She paused, her brow furrowing for a moment when she saw his smile, and then easing again when she understood. "You saw Lily, didn't you?"

"Yes."

She did not need to ask what had happened. She could see the distinct change in his features that told her everything: his eyes were softer and held a warm glint, his posture was straighter as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and the ever-present lines of worry etched into his brow were noticeably missing.

"You feel better, don't you?"

"It aches... But it doesn't hurt like it used to. This ache will fade with time."

"I'm happy for you," she said gently.

"And what about you? May I ask?"

"I'm... Also feeling better." She let out a breath of wry laughter and shook her head. "That man screwed up my head so badly... Even in the months after he was gone, I still let him control me. I kept his things around, I bought the food he ate... I felt like he was going to walk in the door at any moment. And even though I know murder is wrong..." Snape was surprised by the sly smile that just barely pulled at her lips. "I'm going to think of it as opportunistic self-defense." But then the smile became one of earnest joy. "I can do whatever I want now. I'm... Free."

Snape smiled and nodded. "Would I chance to say that I feel the same?"

They began to walk together, in the general direction of where Snape had first entered.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure exactly. My home is nothing more than a pile of ashes- you know that. I suppose I'll withdraw what's left of my savings and apply for a Portkey somewhere."

"Somewhere?"

"Unfortunately I don't know any languages aside from English, save for the Latin and Ancient Greek I had to learn for my potions work. Obviously that will be of no help to me. So that leaves Australia and the United States, both of which I detest vehemently."

"Canada, perhaps?"

"It is a possibility. But I do hate the cold." He gave a shrug, trying to forget his anxiety and instead meditate on what Lily had said about opportunity. He had a whole world of places to try and make a life in. Maybe, if nothing else, he would try to learn German.

"What about you?" he asked, after having willed the warmth of the field back into his heart. "Are you going to stay in that house of yours?"

"Well..." She stared off into the distance, her mouth half-open like she wanted to say something but couldn't. In a moment her brow furrowed, and she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. "I don't know yet."

Snape was about to offer some sort of suggestion when suddenly they both froze. From behind them they could hear the familiar sound of shuffling feet, and they had their guns out well before a voice floated to them through the thinning mist.

"Mr. Snape!"

They eased up only slightly when they heard Charlotte's voice, but then her figure came into view with two featureless monsters at her sides. Adelle was about to make the shot when Charlotte cried out again.

"What are you doing! Stop it!"

The two of them lowered their weapons, noticing that all this time Charlotte had been holding hands with the two creatures, and even now she drew herself behind them.

"It's okay," they heard the girl say. "I bet they just got scared. They're very nice." Quiet for a moment. "But I can't stay here with you! I have to go!"

"What's going on here?" murmured Adelle, exchanging puzzled glances with Snape.

"I think..." The realization hit him. "Her parents. We might see monsters, but I'm almost certain she's seeing her parents."

"Please!" Charlotte continued. "Let me go with them! They'll take care of me, I promise!"

"Charlotte!" Adelle called out. "You can stay with me for a little while. I'll make sure you're safe."

"See! Mommy, please let go! Daddy!" The girl began to pull away, but the monsters held fast. Adelle began to raise her gun again, but Snape stopped her.

"Wait." From inside his bag he pulled the threadbare rabbit, and he held it out as he saw the recognition flash in Charlotte's eye. "This is yours, isn't it?"

He stepped forward, advancing slowly towards them, careful not to make any sudden movements. "Charlotte, you remember giving this to me, don't you?"

"Uh-huh. It was at the hospital."

"Yes. I never got to say thank you because I was asleep, isn't that right?"

"Your room was so empty."

"It was." He was close enough to reach out to her, and he bent down to her eye level before holding out the rabbit for her to take. "It was very comforting, but I'm feeling better now. I think you should have it back."

Charlotte looked up at the two monsters for a moment, and they in turn looked back down at her. Then they let go, allowing the girl to reach out and take her rabbit, before continuing into Snape's arms. Snape chanced a look up at the creatures, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw a man and a woman standing above him, both of them with contented smiles on their faces. He gave them a solemn nod, and they took each other's hands before turning to walk back into the mist.

"Wait!" Charlotte turned after a few moments, and called to their retreating forms. "I love you!" They turned back to wave to her, and then they were gone.

It was quiet until Snape heard Adelle's footsteps as she came up beside him, and he stood to meet her eyes. "Did you see that?" she asked, earning only another nod from Snape. Charlotte smiled and flew into Adelle's grasp, the rabbit now fixed inside the crook of her arm.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked, noticing Adelle's troubled expression.

"I am. I just... I suppose I just made a very important split-second decision."

"And what's that?"

"Come on, let's walk." Snape followed her hesitantly, waiting for her to speak. "I was just thinking that I don't think I'll ever have children of my own."

"Oh. May I ask why?"

"Well, by the time I finally get myself together enough to want a relationship, and then I find somebody, and then I settle down, I'm going to be too old. It's just not in the cards for me." She paused, and then smiled down at the girl beside her. "But I'd like a child, so I'll see if I can't scrounge up some adoption papers for Charlotte. If I can get that to work, I think it would make us both very happy."

"But what about Mr. Snape?" Charlotte asked. "Isn't he going to stay with us too?"

"I don't think so," Snape said quickly. "I promise to visit you, if that's what you'd like, but I think Ms. Branston would like some time alone with just you."

"Are you sure?"

It took Snape a moment to realize that it was Adelle who had said this, and he gave her a curious look. "Ms. Branston. Surely the last thing you need is another man living under your roof."

"Can I be completely honest with you?"

"Of course."

"After... What I did. The house was so empty that it started driving me insane. I felt so lonely that I couldn't even appreciate the freedom I had and... I suppose I even missed him a little. Him being gone was almost worse than him being there."

"I don't want to intrude on your privacy. You have my word- I'll leave the moment you ask me."

"I might do that. But for now... I think I'd like to keep some kind of company. Charlotte can help me in that sense, but I think I'd like to have someone like you around, if only to make me feel a little safer. I guess I just used to love that house, and I want to make it mine again. I'd like to fill it with the people who make me comfortable."

"But why trust me?"

"This town strips away our disguises, leaves us bare. We've seen each other at our weakest, so there's nothing left to hide. How can I _not_ trust you? How can you not trust me? Besides, I'm going to have my good days and bad days, as will you, as will Charlotte. I think it would be better if we stuck together."

"So does that mean Mr. Snape is staying with us after all?"

"For a little while, sweetheart. Right, Severus?"

"Ah... Sorry, I was just a bit taken aback. I'll stay for as long as you want me."

"I'd like that. Although, I do have one condition."

"Anything."

"You can cook, right?"

At this Snape laughed outright, the sound simultaneously unfamiliar and comforting. "So you ask one of the foremost Potions Masters in Britain."

"I don't know; does it carry over like that?"

"I'm a bit rusty, but it does for the most part. If you will be kind enough to provide the materials, I will take charge of mealtimes." Then, after a thoughtful moment, "I'm most likely complete rubbish at laundry, though, so I think it would be wise to leave that to you."

Adelle's laughter was interrupted by a bark that came from somewhere in the fog, and Charlotte gasped and tore away from them. "Oh no! We almost forgot Oscar! Here, Oscar!"

The animal raced towards the girl, excited by the sound of his own name, and began prancing about her ankles. She giggled, wholeheartedly delighted, and ran back to where Snape and Adelle were waiting. "We're taking Oscar home too, aren't we?"

"Of course," Adelle said gently, and ushered the two of them forward as they continued. "But only if you promise to take him for a walk every day. Can you do that?"

"Yes! I promise!"

They walked liked this for another block or so, before the park and the visitor's center came into view. The car that Snape had left there was no longer rusted and bloodstained, but clean and whole as it had been when he parked it there in the first place. The key hung benignly in the lock.

"Do you intend to Apparate home?" Snape asked, as he and Adelle watched Charlotte at play.

"To be honest, I don't think either of us are fit to Apparate at the moment, especially with passengers. My house is a few hours east of here, I think, and we can split the drive if you'd like. Is that alright?"

"Perfectly fine," he said, chancing a slight smile. He called to the girl, who had taken to kneeling by the dog's head to pet it. "Come along, Charlotte. We're leaving." The girl nodded and stood up, going to where Snape had opened the door to the backseat. But she paused there, looking back at the misty buildings behind them. "Is it alright if we leave?" In that moment he had seen something in her eyes, telling him that she had not escaped the town's horrors despite her age. She was clearly thinking back to the things she had seen.

"It's okay," she said at last.

"You're not frightened, are you?"

"No… Just a little sad." After another moment she put up a bright smile and looked up at him. "But I'm going home with you and Adelle now, aren't I? I don't have to be sad anymore, even though it's okay to be sad sometimes. At least, I think so."

"We'll be here for you," Adelle said. "If you need us."

Charlotte nodded and followed the dog that had already leaped into the back seat, and the woman closed the door behind her. But before she ducked into her own seat, she gave Snape a meaningful look, as though to extend the same sentiment to him.

He closed the door behind him, and the engine purred to life as they key turned in the ignition. It was one of the first things he had done in the town that had not been accompanied by a deep sense of dread and uncertainty. There were no more surprises left, he knew.

He pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the main road that he had taken into town at the beginning of his journey. It was quiet in the car for several minutes, but there was no quality of tension or anxiety in it. Rather, there was an exhausted contentment that permeated the air.

Snape's eyes flickered briefly to the woman sitting next to him, her hands folded on her lap as she gazed out the window. She seemed to contain the same hopefulness for the future that he did, and this made him think back to what Lily had told him.

"_Do not dwell on me._"

He paused only a moment before speaking. "Am I still welcome to call you Adelle?"

"Of course," she answered with a smile.

Charlotte was already falling asleep in the backseat, with Oscar's head resting on her knee.

And the car drove onwards, past the damaged sign that announced the name of this realm, and past the dark forests and the lake that surrounded it. The fog became thinner, and the sun began to poke out from the clouds as they turned onto the highway, illuminating the beginning of the open road.


End file.
